


Unlikely Beginnings

by ChristineP



Series: Unlikely Beginnings Duology [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Dubious Consent, F/M, First Time, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 20:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 243,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristineP/pseuds/ChristineP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spur of the moment liaison leaves both parties with more than they bargained for, while hairy armpits, dirty secrets and the blatantly obvious help to blossom humble beginnings into a relationship to remember. (mpreg, het, slash, dubcon, noncon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Disclaimer: All persons, places and potions are the intellectual property of J.K Rowling. We are not receiving anything of monetary value for this piece of fiction, and as much as Carrie would like to make with the hardcore sex with Draco, no one would pay to see that anyway.

'Unlikely Beginnings'  
by: Christine and Carrie

 

Harry Potter had a lot of things on his mind as he reached the front grounds of Hogwarts. As he strolled aimlessly through the cool November air, he wished he could let the breeze blow away the things he counted off in his mind: The ever present threat of Voldemort, Cedric Diggory's death, his on-again, off-again relationship with Cho Chang, life without his godfather, Sirius Black, and whether or not he was prepared to take his NEWTs this year. His life was full and chaotic for a seventeen-year-old boy.

He knew he was The Boy Who Lived, and with that came the great responsibility he held proudly, but sometimes, mainly late at night when he couldn't sleep, he wished he was plain old Harry Potter. Just plain old Harry: Magnificent Quidditch Seeker, piss poor student at potions, and best mate to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.

Of course, if he had been plain, ordinary Harry, he wouldn't have had so much on his mind. No, no. He would have heard the non-discreet footfalls behind him, stepping closer and closer. And, if he had heard that, he wouldn't have, as easily, been pushed from behind. Harry squinted, his eyes partially shut in a cringe as he held his hands out to ease his fall, not really succeeding with that, and thudding painfully onto the ground. With a groan of mild discomfort, he turned over only to see the smirking face of his major annoyance, Draco Malfoy.

Harry opened his eyes and blinked to clear his head and make the image of the blond in front of him appear less blurry, or maybe he should just wipe that fingerprint off the lens of his glasses. He tried not to squint past the smudge as he looked up into Draco's eyes. "Malfoy? Why the bloody hell did you do that?" Harry didn't exactly wait for an answer before he set about getting himself back on his feet, brushing bits of grass off his robes in the process.

"I was bored," Draco stated, as if Harry had asked the stupidest question. "Do I ever need an excuse to torment you, Potter?" Draco gave an almost happy half-smile, which came off more as cruel amusement, as per usual.

Harry rolled his eyes at the slightly wistful tone in the other boy's voice. "Whatever, Malfoy." Harry gave one last brush of his hand to his robes and moved to brush by Draco on his way back to the school. "Why don't you do the world a favor and go rot somewhere?"

Draco frowned and stepped after Harry, reaching a hand to cup over the dark-haired boy's shoulder and spun him back around. "Is that the best you could come up with?" Draco challenged, stepping into Harry's personal space. "I do believe you're losing your touch," Draco said, smirk growing wider by the second at the pissed off look on Harry's face.

"Piss off, you wanker," Harry growled before turning on his heel to head on his way again. He didn't get very far before he found himself flat on his face again with an angry Draco sitting on him, holding him down. "Guh! Get off, you arse!" Harry yelled as he tried valiantly to dislodge Draco's hands from his head, which were currently smacking it into the ground, repeatedly. With his attempts to throw the other boy off, Draco was becoming more aggressive and exerting more strength into the process. Annoyed with his victim's struggles, Draco got up quickly, only to flip Harry onto his back.

Draco grabbed the collar of Harry's robes for more leverage than his hair gave, and continued banging the seemingly offending head into the ground. Glasses askew and barely hanging onto his face, Harry tried to raise his arms up to push Draco off his person, but to no avail. The only thing it provided him with was sore shoulder joints. Harry wiggled his arms forward, instead of back, trying to reach Draco's head.

He succeeded in pushing himself onto his elbows, Draco seemingly not to have foreseen this potential move on Harry's side, and was temporarily at a loss at what to do. Harry reached an arm over his head to Draco's and grasped silky, silver blond hair between his fingers. Giving out a resounding yelp at the rough tug Harry divvied out, Draco flipped Harry back onto his chest and stuck his knee into the middle of Harry's back, pushing him back flat to the ground. Harry groaned in pain when his shoulder joint was bent back awkwardly as his hand was pulled behind his back, Draco holding it down and resuming the initial torment.

The blond had a good four inches and ten pounds on him, and not knowing what else he could do, Harry squirmed his wrist free from under Draco's knee and moved it to the lower regions of Draco's body, grabbing at his groin. All other movement was ceased on Draco's part as his eyes went wide in shock at the new and quite unexpected contact.

Harry was about to yank viciously on the cloth covered flesh in his hands, when a moan of pleasured pain was elicited from above him. His eyes rivaled that of the most terrified house-elf's, to beat even Draco's at the moment, when he felt the item in his hands stiffen. With a startled cry, he tore his hands away and tried to remove himself from his now a lot more awkward position underneath Draco.

When the warm hand over his privates moved away from his groin, Draco opened eyes he apparently hadn't realized were closed, in time to register that Harry was trying to scramble out from under him. He dropped down on his hands again as he crawled back over top of Harry, pinning him down. "Where do you think you're going?" Draco leaned down, breathing the question against the skin behind Harry's ear. Harry had never heard Draco sound this way, though he couldn't say it was really a surprise. "You think you can get me hard and not finish what you started? I think not."

Harry didn't really want to turn to face Draco, but he'd have a better chance of crab-walking it away from the unwelcome shelter he'd attracted than he would of crawling on his belly like a snake. Draco allowed the movement of Harry rolling underneath him, becoming perhaps a bit optimistic of the thigh that brushed over his erection as Harry shifted.

"What are you playing at, Malfoy?" Harry pushed his eyebrows together in confusion as he looked up at the other boy. "I don't know what planet you're living on, but my intention was definitely not to arouse you," he said as he continued trying to disentangle his robes from Draco's and to relieve himself of Draco's weight pushing down on him.

Draco pursed his lips in thoughtful anger before reaching a conclusion in his mind, as he reached for his wand up his sleeve. "Teasing me, are you, Potter? Let's see what you think of this," he said before he began to mumble a charm that began to pin Harry's wrists above his head on the ground. Harry let out a startled cry as his wrists moved of Draco's accord, and he tried desperately to loosen the invisible cords that held them.

Finding himself stuck, he began to toss his body side to side in earnest to get the slightly larger boy off him. Draco groaned once more in surprised pleasure as Harry continued his thrashes, unwitting of their effect on the blond. Uttering another charm under his breath, Draco divested them of their trousers and pants, leaving them both naked from the waist down. Harry gasped in alarm at suddenly finding himself flapping in the wind.

"Draco," Harry began, almost breathless still as he looked up at the predatory face of the Slytherin above him, "someone is going to see you doing this!" After their Care of Magical Creatures class was over, Harry went with Hagrid to his house, but was shooed back for lunch, and knew Hagrid wouldn't be out for at least an hour and a half. Everyone else was inside having lunch.

Draco paid no heed to Harry's concern or worry, but he did comment as he took advantage of the naked limbs in front of him. "Oh, heaven forbid Crabbe and Goyle miss lunch, Potter," Draco tutted. "They won't be out looking for me for quite some time, got to fill their mouths with something if there's no intelligent speech in there, you know."

As he finished saying that, he lifted Harry's thighs up to expose him to the cool breeze and leaned down until his face was only centimeters away from his arse. Draco savored the shocked stillness of Harry's body when the dark-haired boy realized what was actually happening, and ran his tongue experimentally up the cleft. "Oh, god!" Harry shouted. "Malfoy, what the...," he paused as he panted and was rewarded with another teasing lick, " _fuck_... are you doing?" Harry gasped out, and continued to pant heavily each time the blond teased him, and found himself unconsciously pushing back towards Draco's efforts.

 _Oh, yes,_ Harry thought, and his thoughts paused a moment before they could form any further than that. _I've provoked this, haven't I? Yes, I'll just attempt to buck him off with my pelvis. That seems a right hetero thing to do._ Harry would have rolled his eyes at himself if they weren't already shut against the onslaught of Draco's assault.

Draco stopped then, licking his lips in the process, only to add his right index finger. "I'm preparing you, or haven't you noticed?" Draco replied belatedly, turning his head to the left, and saying to himself, "Bollocks, I must be losing my touch if he's still coherent enough to ask bloody questions." He muttered to himself before removing his finger to once again lick and suck at him.

Harry continued to moan and gasp. He was almost on the brink of orgasm when Draco pulled away completely, making Harry's eyes snap open and his brain almost come back to reality at the sudden loss. Making a slight face, Draco spat a glob of spit into his hand and bringing it to his erection, slathered it all over himself as ceremoniously as he could. Using his dry hand to grab one of Harry's sprawled legs, he pushed it up towards Harry's chest, the other following suit on its own. Draco's hands smoothed his arse, parting the other boy widely, and began to push forward.

Harry let out a tense grunt of pain as Draco leaned in. He wasn't particularly thrilled about losing his virginity where anyone out taking a stroll could spot them, and he definitely never pictured giving up his innocence to Malfoy, of all people. Harry unclenched his jaw once he felt Malfoy stop moving, and finish seating himself in Harry's body. The ache, Harry found, was beginning to fade, and become less painful as it had been a few moments ago, but it still felt like a dull ache nonetheless. He closed his eyes as his jaw slackened even more to let out a breath of air, trying to get some form of pleasure out of being used, when he felt Draco slowly start moving.

Draco grasped his bottom lip and pulled it inside his mouth, biting down on it to keep himself in control. He wasn't about to climax so quickly like an eager little virgin, and he didn't want to end this too soon. It had been a few weeks since he had last slept with anyone, and he wanted this to be good. Even though he didn't particularly like Potter, really, he didn't want to cause the other boy any harm. Fucking hard was one thing, but being brutal was quite another. No matter what people thought of him or his family, he was not the type to permanently injure someone. At least, not intentionally.

As Draco continued, his thoughts weren't completely focused on what he was doing. Still being careful not to hurt Harry, even by squishing him, Draco leaned down onto his elbows over top of Harry. He didn't want to mislead the other boy into thinking this was any type of romantic thing, but keeping to his no-harm motto, he felt inclined to make it good for Harry as well. It wasn't as if Harry was really struggling to get away at the moment, either. His thoughts began to break up as his physical reactions caught up with him, leaving him murmuring. He gasped out at first, feeling his warm breath bounce back at him from the side of Harry's neck, adding to the flush that was creeping up over the rest of his body, muttering indecipherable words about the feel of Potter around him.

Harry whimpered out something unintelligible, which pleased Draco, considering his earlier comment. Harry alternated those whimpers with low cries of pleasure, gasping or yelling out, "Oh, god," as Draco pressed forward. They continued this way for a good while until Draco pushed deep, warranting the loudest cry from Harry yet. Not wanting to give up that pleasure yet, Harry bore down on Draco, and held.

"That's it," Draco whispered down to him. "Do that again," he demanded, giving a teasing little lick along Harry's jaw line. Harry did as he was told, though not necessarily for Draco's benefit. A moment later, after twin shuddering moans from the both of them, Harry began struggling at his invisible bonds. Draco was planning on letting him pointlessly tug at the spell when he heard the most frustrated whimper from Harry. Understanding dawned on Draco as a slow smirk formed on his lips, though parted to gasp in air, he muttered the reversal charm. He watched, eyelids barely drawn open, as Harry spared barely a second to rub his wrists before a hand dove out of sight. As he followed the hand with his eyes, knuckles skimmed his chest, making a shiver run straight through him, in every part of his body, before he was promptly made aware of Harry's rigid state.

Draco looked back up to Harry's face just in time to see the undecided motor response to where his other hand would go. He stared at the hand that seemingly wanted to wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him towards Harry for a kiss. Unsure of whether he wanted that or not, Draco made the effort to lift himself back onto his hands, looking down to watch Harry rapidly pull at himself.

Harry was quite studiously ignoring the grass rubbing against his lower back, and he managed to push it out of his mind completely when his hands were let loose. He wanted to almost hug Draco for the small mercy he'd allowed, but when he caught sight of those lips in that devilishly tempting smirk, his mind stalled. Suddenly, the aftermath of this excursion posed a thousand questions in his head. He was thankful, though, that subconsciously, his brain was still going along with the original plan, to finish himself off. Would Draco pretend it never happened? Would they be an 'item'? He doubted it. A kiss, though? How would Draco react to even that, at least while they were fucking? He'd never dream of walking up to his supposed enemy in the halls and laying a big smacking kiss on his lips. But what about right now?

The decision was taken away from him due to his delay in action, as Draco put more distance between them. He seemed to be making up for the gap, a silence and never admitted apology for no kiss, by heaving forward a bit harder. Draco knew what Harry was thinking of doing, and he had thought about it himself, as well, but he decided he didn't want to go there. This was just sex, after all. Admittedly, it had been unplanned, but it was still sex, either way. He had no desire to get 'close' to Harry, other than the instance laying before him.

His head lolled back a bit as he gasped, feeling his climax approaching. It seemed Potter was experiencing the same, as his hand sped up, pulling himself in desperation, bringing himself to the edge of his own release. Not wanting to peak before the boy beneath him, Draco shifted a knee, angling his hips a bit. He smiled to himself when a long, drawn out moan erupted from Harry's mouth. _Wonderful thing, the prostate,_ Draco mused to himself as he continued striking it.

Draco wanted to finish this up quickly, as most students would be done with their lunch by now, and might wander outside. He wouldn't have necessarily been embarrassed by being caught, but with Potter? He didn't want rumors spreading. Harry let out another loud cry when his completion came, twitching and spasming all over his hands and shirt. After a couple more rocks, Draco climaxed due to Harry's clenches. A bit weak, Draco slumped down over Harry as they both caught their breaths.

Moments later, being not too comfortable laying with Potter, Draco carefully withdrew, sighing. He leaned back to sit on his haunches, looking down curiously at the other boy. Harry pushed himself onto his elbows, looking misleadingly relaxed and carelessly lounged due to the bliss of climax. With one last odd look, Draco stood up and reversed the charm he'd used to take their trousers off. Harry barely registered that only Draco's reappeared, that he'd have to do it himself for his own.

Draco smoothed his hands down his thighs to get rid of any wrinkles hiding there, paying no attention to the boy still laying on the ground, until he said, "Well, thanks for that. See you around, Potter." Draco turned and walked away, towards the castle, hoping he'd be in time to grab a bite of lunch before afternoon classes started.

Harry watched him incredulously, wondering if he was actually just going to leave. It wouldn't be unlike Malfoy to do that, he realized, but he couldn't make himself move. All he could think about was the smirk firmly etched on Malfoy's face before he turned, leaving Harry to wonder what the fuck just happened. Besides the obvious, at least; but Harry wasn't sure Draco would give him that much credit.

\----

The next day, Harry made his way to Potions in a trance-like state. His thoughts had decided not to come along with him, still stuck on what had transpired the day before, with Draco. He knew it was almost impossible that they would come out being a couple, just because they had shagged, but he had the feeling he wouldn't simply be blown off, either. During breakfast that morning, he'd glanced across the Great Hall towards the Slytherin table, trying to catch Malfoy's eye. The other boy seemingly ignored him, and when he did spare a moment for his eyes to dart up, catching Harry's, he'd smirk and turn his attention back to his house mates.

Lost as he was in his mind's wonderings, he didn't notice what Ron had been saying. He turned his head when he felt a sharp prod to his shoulder. Harry simply stared back at Ron, who was giving him a funny look. "I'm sorry, what?"

Ron's look turned to a frown, but he repeated himself, nonetheless. "I said, do you reckon Snape'll pop a quiz on us?" Ron still looked like he wanted to ask what he was thinking of, but decided against it. He passed it off as fatigue, since he had heard Harry's fitful sleep the night before.

Harry blinked, mentally rearranging his thoughts to the present, and then let his shoulders give a loose shrug. "I wouldn't be too surprised, if he did," he replied, turning his attention to the hallway in front of him as a few students from Snape's last class filed out of the room. They looked rather harassed, and Harry hoped Snape wasn't in too bad of a snit.

Hermione and Ron shared a squeamish look with each other as they, too, caught the look on the other students' faces. When the doorway was clear, Harry walked through the threshold and into the room, leaving his two friends behind to exchange concerned looks with each other, both for the fact that Harry seemed rather dazed, and, of course, the horrors of a potential pop quiz.

They followed after their friend, selecting a seat on either side of Harry. Ron had decided to ask Harry if he was okay, as he set his books down on the table in front of him. He sat down and turned in his seat, ready to ask what was bothering him when Snape came bursting through the door as he normally did.

Once, Hermione said Snape did it to scare them all into thinking he was an arse, that she thought, deep down, he was really a nice guy. After waiting for the boys' laughter to die down, she vowed to never share her inner opinions on Snape again. As he swished past their table, she straightened in her chair as they all prepared to be scrutinized, er, taught.

"Alright," Snape began curtly. "As you've all most likely not been told--" he sent an unamused glance over to the Slytherin side of the room, "--there's going to be a quiz today." There was a collective sound, mostly forming along the lines of 'argh' as the Gryffindors followed Snape's eyes. The other side of the room seemed to let out a small chuckle, though a few did add to the 'argh'.

Ron glared daggers at the Slytherins, and thinking back to his earlier comment, wondered if he'd venture so far as to predict that Professor Trelawney would stop giving them ridiculous homework for the rest of the year.

"Remove your books; place them under your chairs. I want only your quills atop your desks." Snape picked up a stack of parchment from his own desk and started towards the students, passing out tests to each.

"I want to know if anything I've been teaching the last two weeks has sunk into those black holes you children call minds," Snape finished rather derisively, leveling another steady glare around the entire room.

There was another group effort to groan as students read what was on his or her test sheet. Ron leaned over until he could whisper to Harry, watching as Snape's back was to them, shuffling papers on his desk. "I swear Snape gets worse and worse each year."

Harry gave a little nod, once again struggling to keep his thoughts in the present. "I'd guess from a lack of a good shag; course, I can't blame anyone not wanting to touch the ugly git," Ron continued, sitting back. Harry was jerked out of his daze long enough to elicit a short snort of laughter in response to his friend's comment. He'd tried to hold it back, but, unfortunately for him, Snape had heard.

"Something you'd like to share with the rest of the class, Mr. Potter?" Snape had turned around where he was standing, and leaned back against his desk. Arms crossed, he slid his eyes over to Ron momentarily before settling them back on Harry, waiting for an answer.

Harry fidgeted under the unblinking scowl Snape had targeted him with. "Er," was all he could manage to get out. He really, particularly, did not want to tell Snape what had made him snicker.

Snape sniffed, making a disgusted face that seemed to look half pleased at the same time. "I thought not," he said, turning back to his desk. "Ten points from Gryffindor for disrupting my class."

The displeased Gryffindors were a rather palpable force, and Harry felt them quite well as he lost them points for the umpteenth time. He was almost sure some of them were glaring at him out the corner of their eyes. The feeling faded after a moment, though, owing to the fact that many of them had lost points at one time or another due to Snape's unfortunate dislike for their whole lot.

Snape, meanwhile, smirked to himself at the goings on behind him. He straightened and turned back to face his class, a little clock in his hand he'd grabbed from his desk. "At my notice, you will have one hour, and only one hour, to complete your quizzes."

The class stared at him, waiting, and someone dared to clear their throat slightly. Snape was watching the timepiece in his hand, though, and paid no heed to that, for once. The small timepiece in his hand clicked into place on the twelve. "Begin," Snape said, loud and clear, and of course menacing, warranting the almost coordinated shuffle as every student started into the test before them.

\----

"Well, that was marvelous," Ron sighed as he walked alongside his two friends towards the library. Hermione had insisted they spend their free period after Potions in the library, getting an early start on studying for their NEWTs. Ron complained, naturally, citing the seven whole months before the tests were even scheduled to be given out.

As per usual, Hermione stood by her reasoning, and they were soon on their way to the library, instead of doing something trivial and pointless or otherwise enjoying their time. About a foot or two from the doors of their destination, Harry suddenly stopped.

"Damn," he swore quietly, eyeing Professor Flitwick down the hall. A quick chorus of 'What?' from Hermione and Ron followed.

"I forgot my Potions notes," Harry said. Hermione frowned, wondering how on Earth someone could forget something like that. Ron just shrugged and opened the door to the library, holding it open for Hermione.

Harry turned to head back down to the dungeons. "I'll catch up with you later," he called. The hall was mostly emptied out by now. The next class had started, and soon Harry was the only one left in the halls leading to the dark and gloomy floor where the Potions lab was set up.

As he turned down the last corridor to the lab, Harry could see the door was open as he neared. There was a voice coming from the room, muttering to itself, it seemed. It was too quiet to be a class. Harry rounded the corner of the doorway and looked across the room to see a cloaked figure kneeling down over the floor near the underside of a table.

Harry stepped into the room, watching the other student as he made his way to his table where he could see his book, unconfiscated by a nosy Snape. The student, hearing Harry's footsteps, lifted his head, and when he saw who it was, stood up. It was none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Potter," he acknowledged, with a rather sweeping glance down Harry's body. Draco crossed his arms and leaned back against his table, watching Harry reach his own and pick up his book.

"What are you still doing here?" Harry asked him. Malfoy wasn't nearly as rude to him in private as he was when his faithful toadies were around, Harry noted. He wondered if it was because of their strange new intimacy from the other day, or if Draco was just in a good mood.

Draco waved a negligent hand at the few remaining black smears on the floor beside his table. "Accidentally dropped my ink," he said, and gestured with the cloth in his hand, already blotted with black. "Snape tossed this at me, so I got stuck cleaning it up."

"Oh," Harry said, picking up his notebook. Draco pulled his wand out of his sleeve, and Harry didn't have time to be worried about what Draco was planning to do. With a barely audible spell uttered under his breath, the cloth in Draco's other hand levitated into the air and burst into flames.

Draco gave an appraising look to the empty air where the cloth had been, and seemed pleased. He then rubbed his boot over the ink smudges still on the floor before he looked up. "You still here, Potter?"

Harry simply nodded, not knowing why he was even still in the room. He had his book, he'd been pleasant, and Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the library. Draco replaced his wand up his sleeve and started towards Harry. Not knowing he had even been moving, Harry found he had backed himself up as far as he could. Draco had cornered him against Snape's desk, Harry realized as he looked over his shoulder. He frowned at an open jar of goop before his attention snapped back to Draco.

Draco advanced up the small step to Snape's desk, stepping up and placing himself mere inches away from Harry's body. He tilted his head thoughtfully as he slipped a hand under Harry's robe and pulled up his shirt slightly, enough to hook a finger into a belt loop. Slowly, he let his lips slide into a soft smirk. Harry had no room to move, and was barely aware that Draco had pulled his arms down and set his book aside. "What?" Harry asked, as he caught sight of the smirk now plastered on Draco's face.

"Oh," Draco started, sliding his other hand to Harry's other hip and doing the same. "I thought we'd just entertain ourselves, have a bit of fun." He pulled with his fingers linked onto Harry's trousers, bringing Harry up from his slight lean on the desk and flush against himself. "What do you reckon?"

Harry scooted back to the desk, even if it only gave him two inches between their bodies, but it was something. "Er, Snape will be here any second," Harry said, trying to sound like he didn't want to have the kind of fun Draco was meaning. He wasn't against it, but in Snape's office? And on his desk, no less.

"Our dear Snape has run off to a meeting," Draco replied happily, letting his eyes drift down Harry's body again, clearly appreciating what they saw, and rather blatantly, to boot. "We'll have well over an hour, I'd say." Draco hoped it would be that long; he saw such potential before him. He wanted to take a bit more time with Harry this round.

Harry cleared his throat nervously under Draco's heavy stare, and wished he had his book back. Oh, no. Books. "Uh, I - I've got to get back to the library. Ron and Hermione, they're waiting for me back at..." He trailed off for a second, watching as Draco licked his lips and took a firmer hold on one of his hips. "The library," he finished weakly, trying to inch his way sideways enough so he could have a clear path to run out the door.

Draco watched him, amused, and he pushed at Harry's side, moving him back into place and taking back the few feeble inches he'd gained. "No, I don't think so," he said. "How about we have a repeat of yesterday afternoon, shall we?" And before Harry could open his mouth, probably only to be able to say 'What?', he was rather roughly twisted around to face the blackboard.

He let out a startled gasp and had just enough time to look down before he was pushed over Professor Snape's desk, to find himself at a loss for trousers. Harry automatically began to push with his forearms, to lift himself off the desk, when he felt Draco's hands on his hips again. They felt a lot smoother, and a bit cool against his bare skin, which he hadn't remembered from the day before.

Not being able to help it, Harry let out a little squeak of pleasure when he felt the almost familiar feeling of a wet, talented tongue running along his crack. Before he even knew what he was doing, he was absentmindedly pushing back against Draco's face and gasping when he was intimately reacquainted with its talents.

Draco hummed low in his throat, warranting more squirming from Harry as he used his thumbs to part the other boy's arse further. Harry let out a deep groan as he felt Draco's fingers pulling and pushing at his skin. When Draco deepened, Harry felt himself almost melt at the feeling. His head slipped forward to hit against the desk's surface, eliciting a muttered, "Ow."

Preoccupied as he was with his task at hand, Draco didn't hear Harry, and he delved far as he could, slicking Harry for what was to come. A moment later he pulled back and watched, a bit surprised, as Harry squirmed backwards, wanting more. Draco grinned, feeling that he'd prepared Harry sufficiently for his purposes, and stood up behind him.

He decided to forego magicking his trousers off, and just pulled them down around his thighs. Stepping up against Harry, Draco pressed into the warm crevice, making Harry moan. Draco brought a hand to his mouth and dripped a gob of saliva into it. He slipped the other hand under Harry's shirt, rubbing half to comfort, half to push him back down onto the desk.

Draco rubbed the spit over himself, and took hold to line up with Harry. He pressed forward slowly, taking hold of Harry's hips, and worked himself into velvet heat. Harry squeezed his eyes shut at the pain, but it didn't hurt as much as before. Malfoy was going slow to start, like he had been last time, but using only spit wasn't a very comfortable experience.

His hands tightened the already strong hold he had on Harry's hips, and Draco proceeded, pressing forward slowly into the other boy. The blond tilted his head down on his second out-stroke, panting as he became more aroused at watching hiimself disappear and reappear within the brunet. Harry's grip on the desk in front of him was challenged as Draco pushed harder. He turned his head to look at the chair not two feet away, and tried not to picture his Potions master sitting right there, right now. Harry cried out and shut his eyes as Draco changed the angle of his hips, heaving against that wonderful bundle of nerves on each forward stroke.

Everything else seemed to fade from their minds as Draco continued in this vein until he felt his bollocks start to tighten. He pulled on Harry's hips as he pushed forward and climaxed hard. Harry had heard the change in Draco's breathing, surprised he was even paying that much attention to the blond at times like this, and knew that it was a signal that his climax was approaching. He didn't think Malfoy would help get him off after the fact, so Harry steadied himself as best he could and moved a hand from the edge of the desk toward his groin.

He grabbed himself roughly and began to pull quickly, in time with Draco's pushing. Harry's eyes fell shut and his mind reeled as he felt Draco's orgasm, and he cried out himself, releasing himself to splatter the edge of the desk. Draco slumped down against the other boy's back, mindful of their closeness as he panted heavily. Harry did likewise as he felt his knees begin to wobble slightly from the effort to keep himself above the desk and not knock anything out of place.

After a brief moment, Draco began to withdraw as slowly as he could, and pulled his trousers back up. He fastened them up again and stepped back from the Gryffindor so he could get up as well. Harry shakily stood and muttered the counter charm, redressing himself, knowing full well Draco wouldn't be so kind as to do it for him. Harry turned and leaned back slightly against the desk, but still not wanting to move any papers for fear of Snape finding out someone had touched his things.

Draco straightened a cuff of his robes and looked up at Harry, who was now facing him. With almost an appraising look, Draco watched the dark haired boy with a strange expression in his eyes before he spoke. "Thanks again," he said, the smugness not quite at its fullest possible extent, Harry noticed. "See you around, Potter."

Without waiting for any type of response, Draco turned and made for the door, on his way back to the Slytherin common room. Harry watched him leave before he took a steadying breath. "I'm sure," Harry muttered derisively to himself as he turned back to the desk to survey the damage.

He had tried, as much as he could while finishing himself, to keep his discharge to an unused space on the desk. He lifted his robe and found an inconspicuous spot on the inside near the back of his thigh, and twisted it so he could wipe up the mess off Snape's desk.

It seemed oddly quiet in the dungeon room now, and Harry was in no mood to stick around, as he begin to feel like the dismembered dragon eyes in random jars on the shelves were watching him accusingly. The desk cleaned, Harry picked up his book, wondering how long he'd been gone from the time he left Hermione and Ron at the library. He took one last look at the desk when he got to the threshold, before turning and making his way back to the library.

\----

Harry had just made it to the library to explain that he'd got down to the potions lab just fine, but on his way back, he had done his best to avoid a rather testy looking Baron. Ron winced in sympathy, clearly believing him, as they'd done the same together one night on the way back from the owlery. Hermione, on the other hand, looked skeptical, but seemed to take his story for the truth, or close enough.

They had evidently been in a conversation before he'd gotten there, and they continued on that, almost ignoring his presence but to ask for his opinions. Hermione had been thinking about women's rights, as she'd learned about them in Muggle Studies that day. Harry wasn't really tuned in to all their points, but he did catch that Ron agreed with her on most things. That helped to keep the conversation positive, as Hermione didn't have to become affronted by someone disagreeing with her.

The bell rang, and Hermione belatedly said she'd sent Ron up to their dorms to grab Harry's bag, with his Quidditch robes inside, and his books for their next class. "Oh, thanks for that," Harry said to her, taking the bag and swinging it over his shoulder. She smiled at him and they made their way out of the library, being glared at suspiciously by Madam Pince as they left.

"I s'pose you're going straight to practice after, Harry?" Ron asked him when they got into the greenhouse. They set their things down at their table, and Ron had to prod his friend after a minute, since Harry had evidently not heard him. "Oi."

"What?" Harry said, turning to face Ron. "Oh, yeah, I probably will, since I've got my robes on me." Harry had forgotten that the Slytherins weren't in the same greenhouse as they were today, as they had been for the past week. They were separated with the gender of the plant they were working with. Slytherin students were moved to Greenhouse Four, with the males, and the Gryffindors were in Greenhouse Three with the females.

"I've still got to grab mine. What's with you?" Ron asked suddenly, and Harry immediately tried to stop glaring wistfully, if it were possible to do that, at the table that Malfoy and Goyle usually used.

Harry shook his head. "Nothing, just forgot the Slytherins were moved for the rest of the week."

Ron grinned. "Yeah, good thing, too. We would never have gotten these seeds if they were in here yakking about random things to try and distract us." Just then, Neville, hearing what Ron had said about their progress on the plants, leaned over said plants to see them both more clearly from his table.

"I helped Professor Sprout carry some soil into Greenhouse Four, and a lot of the Slytherins' plants are wilty and dead," he said, smiling. That would mean their rival house would have points taken away for letting their plants die off. Harry and Ron laughed at that, and then turned their attention to Professor Sprout, who had just entered the greenhouse.

"Alright, I've set the Slytherins to mending their neglected plants. Now, let's all see the seeds you've collected..."

\----

"You alright, Harry?"

Harry turned to see Neville following him in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. Hermione and Ron had already bid him 'see you later' and he'd started on his way to the Gryffindor change room to grab his broom and put his robes on. "Neville. Yeah, I'm alright."

The forgetful boy caught up with him, and looked a bit confused at that. "Oh," he said. "Well, I just thought you looked a bit off during Herbology, thought you might be ill."

He thought about that for a moment, and it was true. He had been a bit over there throughout the lesson, as he'd tried in vain to look through the fuzzy green walls of the house over to the adjacent Greenhouse Four, but to no avail, naturally. "Er, it was just a bit muggy in there today, fogged my brain up."

Neville laughed at that, and agreed, nodding. "You've got practice, I won't keep you," he said, smiling and turned to make his way back to the castle, where the last of the Slytherins could be seen reaching the top step.

Harry waved and turned back to face the pitch, still in the distance. His mind was pleasantly blank as he suited up and retrieved his Firebolt from the broom cupboard in the change room. He met Ron as he was leaving the room. "Oi, hurry, will you? I want to get started."

Ron nodded, obviously thinking he was late enough to not reply other than just agreeing and heading in to grab his broom and change. Harry walked out to the pitch to see his team assembled already, sans Ron.

Dean Thomas and Parvati Patil were already up in the air trying out some new passes they'd been working on, while the team's Beaters were trying to keep a Bludger restrained. Finally giving up on leaving the ball box open, they simply shut the lid. The Bludger gave a final jerk, moving the box at least an inch to the left, before it quieted. Seamus and Lavender, said Beaters, saw Harry coming over and stopped discussing the antsy ball when he reached them.

"So?" Seamus asked. He was rather non-descript, usually wanting to get to the game and have fun. He was a good Beater; strong and fast. With a good build for swinging the bat, it only increased his muscle size, and he didn't have an ego for it. All around a good player, Harry thought.

"Soon as Ron gets out here, we'll start... something." He took a breath of the late afternoon air, frowning slightly as he tried to think of what they needed to work on. Mostly they practiced with the Quaffle and the Chasers would perfect passes and dodge hits that would come from the other team. But, that left the Beaters with not much to do, except pretend to be on the other team, and do the hitting.

Lavender Brown barely suppressed her annoyance at his delay. She'd gotten tired of everyone telling her she was too snotty and prissy, so what did she do? Join the Quidditch team. In what position was what surprised most people. Gryffindor was known for having many female Chasers, but not many female Beaters. She got the respect for it, and for being a surprisingly good Beater, and people stopped saying she only cared about herself.

Seamus nodded behind Harry at Ron finally coming over to them. Ron was about to say something before he caught the look on Lavender's face, and grinned. "Letting the Bludgers loose today, Harry?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I reckon we are." He moved to the box and flipped the lid up, noting the Bludger had calmed down, and frowned. "Where's the Snitch?"

"Oh," Parvati said as she landed. Harry turned to her. "Creevey set it loose just before you came out, but then he had to use the loo." She shook her head, moving to stand beside Lavender and they began to fuss over a chipped nail. Harry looked confused at her. For Parvati being a determined Chaser, and Lavender being a toned up Beater, they were such girls sometimes.

"Harry! Harry!" Soft padding feet were rapidly approaching from behind as Dennis ran towards them. "Sorry," he panted, "it just hit me and I had to go. The Snitch is out." Dennis had been the latest addition to their team, after losing Katie Bell last year due to her graduation. Colin Creevey, avid Harry Potter fan, had tried to persuade his little brother to take his camera up in the air, but Dennis had rightfully declined.

As for the Snitch being let out by the youngest teammate, that was almost typical by now. Dennis did, indeed, have a keen eye for the little walnut-sized ball, and the first game they played, had actually told Harry where it was, winning them 210 points after beating Ravenclaw. They would need a Seeker next year, after Harry had left Hogwarts, so he encouraged Dennis to get some practice in occasionally.

"Right," Harry nodded. "Let's get this sorted, then." And sorted it was, in about ten minutes. Ron took his spot as Keeper first, followed by Dennis, and Dean as _Team 1_ Chasers, and Parvati and Harry, as _Team 2_ Chasers. Seamus took _Team 2_ for his own, and Lavender was left with _Team 1_.

Two Chasers to a team, yet Harry would still have to catch the Snitch, since it was loose anyway. There was one Beater to a team, one Keeper to the game, and all the balls. Harry stayed on the ground while the rest of his team flew up to standard playing height, and then he let loose the Bludgers. They zoomed straight up and then abruptly took right angles, aiming for Chasers. Seamus and Lavender went straight after them immediately, and Harry mounted his Firebolt and started into the game, as well.

It went well, Ron saving all but two shots, until there was an accident. Dean was hit by Seamus' Bludger, and had to be taken inside. That left the teams uneven, so Harry opted to just catch the Snitch and then they'd call it a day.

He hovered around the opposite end of the pitch that they were using, watching for the golden ball. Being so high up, he could see all the way to the castle, and see the large wooden doors leading inside. The sun was starting to go down, and Harry wanted to go inside and go to bed. He felt strangely tired, yet not. He didn't have any homework to do, so he supposed he could just lie in bed with his wand lit and read something guaranteed not to bore him to sleep.

Harry saw a glitter near a Hufflepuff-colored spectator stand, and started after it, surprised he even saw it. On his way speeding toward it, when it realized he was closing in, it up and fooled him by heading straight for him. Harry did a 180 and took off behind it, and then he suddenly remembered a time Malfoy did the exact same thing to him, being a little miffed that they were so close, and the Snitch no where in sight. Malfoy had thought, _Get one more goal, injure Potter enough to knock him off his broom, and Slytherin wins._

It was a very close game, and he and Malfoy had been _so_ close to either one of them catching the Snitch. They had it cornered under the stands, and had strangely worked together to lure it out enough to be grabbed. Malfoy, Harry thought, as he scissored his fingers closed over a wing, and felt the little mechanical animal flutter helplessly before it gave up and folded.

Harry rose and watched his team through glazed eyes as he thought of Draco Malfoy. What was going on with them? Before he really got thinking any further, he heard angry shouts coming from his team. "Finnegan, that was not a goal!" "Yes, it was!" "No, you were on a slant and it just looked like it." "Seamus, it wasn't," Dennis said.

Seamus sighed, defeated, and Harry made his way to them. "What's the score?" Harry asked, as they all just started descending on their brooms, seeing the Snitch in Harry's hand.

"60 to 80," Ron said. "It was close, but then my hand got skimmed by a Bludger and bruised it, so I missed a few. Seamus thinks it should be 70 for his team, but, oh, well."

"It's just practice," Seamus conceded, not upset at it, but simply accepting his mistake. "I hope Dean's okay, though." He'd had a cracked rib and broken wrist when they'd left the infirmary, but Madam Pomfrey assured them he'd be fine and sent them off again.

"Harry?"

Harry lifted his head from watching the stone steps as he walked up to the castle. He saw Parvati waiting for him, holding the door open. "You coming?"

"Yeah," he answered, trying to give a smile, but it didn't quite come out. She smiled back at him, anyway, though. Maybe he should try to talk to Malfoy? Not that Harry thought he'd listen, or not deny anything, as long as he had Crabbe or Goyle around him. He had no idea how or when to catch him alone.

\----

"I did not!" Goyle complained, unusually daring to speak back to Malfoy. He'd gotten cuts on his hands for two, because Draco didn't want to touch the aggressive, spiny plants. Never mind the whole five minutes it would take to heal them as if they were never there to begin with, Draco still wouldn't have placed his pinky finger in stabbing range of the plants.

"Well, you certainly did something to it, making it all limp and dry like that," Draco said, sounding final, and striding a little faster to get ahead of the two large boys flanking him. "Oi, Pussy, wait up!"

A tall boy in front of him, with short cropped dark hair, but long enough to look a bit messy, turned and looked a little annoyed at Draco before stopping at the top of the stairs to wait for Malfoy. "What, Draco?" he asked with a now clearly annoyed tone, and sounding bored. Adrian Pucey was one of the only few Slytherins in the entire House to take any kind of testy air with Draco.

"When's the next practice?" Draco asked. He had a begrudging respect for Pucey, since he was their House team captain. They had gathered the team, sans Draco, and voted on a new captain the year before. Marcus Flint, being the predecessor, graduated two years ago, and then the team was left captainless, due to avoidance of the subject.

"When Hufflepuff is done with the pitch tomorrow after lunch," Adrian answered him. It was surprising to none that Draco was still on the team, despite him being rather shoddy at Quidditch. No doubt, no one wanted to upset the malicious silver blond by not automatically lifting him up to captaincy, but no one wanted to see their team utterly fail under his shitty tactics, either.

The team avoided the issue like the plague, until they finally had to do something, feeling collectively leaderless and their old strategies dying out as the other House teams caught on to their game. In the meantime, Adrian had stood in as captain, being the oldest player on the team. He was, in fact, the oldest student in the entire school. He should have graduated the year before, but due to one of Draco's numerous miscalculations on how they should play the game, was hurt badly by a Bludger, and had to take his NEWTs a day later, while still quite delirious from various healing potions.

The result: he had to retake his last year at Hogwarts. This had a large effect on Pucey, once being an energetic Chaser, and popular student, was now almost despondent and depressed, choosing to linger at the back of his crowd. His crowd was Draco's crowd, and Draco often mistook him for a friend. He was glad Draco wouldn't take shit from him, knowing full well he was basically breezing through this entire year, and Malfoy would often ask him how to do things. In private, of course.

Draco slapped him on the back and grinned, propelling him forward along his side. "So, Pussy," he said, using his favored nickname for Adrian, making fun of his last name, "I've got an idea for our match against Gryffindor."

"What's that?" Adrian asked morosely. What he really wanted was to get the hell out of this school, and pick up a job, and try and forget his extended year. And maybe win the House Cup, but that sure as shit stinks wasn't going to happen with one of Draco's ideas; he had to give Malfoy credit for putting thought into it, though.

"Well, at practice, I was thinking we could switch players around, and see how that goes." Oh, this spiel again. Draco seemed to think he would do well with his lithe frame as a Beater. The rest of the team had a different idea for him; he should stay Seeker, because he was thin and agile, even if he was shit.

"Draco, were you even at the last practice?" McDougall asked, not recalling the session himself, but sure that Draco wasn't there, because he hadn't been asked once to give him the Bludger bat, 'just to try'.

"Er, when was it?" Draco asked, slightly affronted by the question. He hadn't been to the pitch for quite some time, it seemed. "Shit..." he said more to himself than out loud, but his entourage still heard him.

"What?" asked Goyle, who had stopped rubbing his hands, finding it made them worse, but still treating them gently. Theodore Nott looked at him questioningly, and Goyle lifted his hands into the light of the torch in a sconce before the tapestry to their common room. Nott grimaced.

"Nothing," Draco replied swiftly. "I just forgot..." He trailed off, a slight crease to his brow. They'd reached the Slytherin common room in the dungeons, and Adrian was the first to the door, but even he was curious as to what had made Draco pause, thinking.

"Adrian, open the damn door!" Pansy shrieked from the back of the crowd, having received a few lewd glances at her chest. Attention was drawn from Draco as the tapestry rolled itself up upon the requested password the snake embroidered on it hissed out for, and they began to file into the room.

Draco stepped over the lowest brick of the wall that always stayed there, and made his way silently down the steps, still trying to think of what he had been doing. Blaise Zabini had come down the steps shortly behind Draco, and separated from him to the left of the room, into the boys' dorms. He came back out to find Draco sitting on his usually claimed couch, and sat down in a chair opposite. "Alright?"

Draco looked up and frowned at Blaise before answering. He nodded, still frowning, but seeming to come out of his thoughts and pulled a side table into the space between them as Blaise scooted his chair closer. They were paired for an assignment and had to get started on it.

"So, where _were_ you the other day?" Blaise asked, laying out their papers. It was for Arithmancy, which they did with Ravenclaw, so naturally they had to get started so as not to be upstaged by the other House.

"Actually, you know, I'm not quite sure," Draco responded. He and Blaise had known each other before coming to Hogwarts, but had grown apart in their years there. They still knew each other quite well, but Blaise seemed quiet around Draco more often than not, and most people didn't even know they knew each other as well as they did. At one point, they even had called each other best friends.

"I saw you later that night, and you seemed rather smug about something or other," Blaise said, tossing a quill to Draco. Was it really that night? Draco thought. It didn't seem so long ago, but it did. He hadn't actually given thought to his first excursion with Potter since the second, and it was only to plan in his mind for a potential third. Oh, and of course to actually finish the deed.

"Like I said, I don't remember," Draco sighed. "NEWTs and all that," he added distractedly, and he shifted in his chair. He lifted his tongue in front of his teeth, feeling it around a canine as he watched a group of first years blur out of focus. He might have guessed a minute had passed when he heard a snapping sound, before realizing it was right in front of his face, in the form of Blaise's fingers. "What?" he snapped, frowning at the space where the first years had been sitting, and seeing no one there. Maybe more than a minute?

Blaise looked taken aback by the sharp question when Draco turned to face him, but looked at him curiously. In all the years he'd known Draco, he swore he'd only seen him stare blankly into thin air a total of four times. "Everything going alright?"

"Quite. Let's finish this assignment, yes?" Studiously turning his attention back to their schoolwork, Draco started shuffling papers absently, not really doing anything productive until Blaise started to read a question out loud.

\----

Severus Snape made almost no noise as he swooped down the stairs to his dungeon. He did like thinking of the entire basement as 'his'. No other teachers taught down there, thinking it too gloomy to teach in, or too dirty, or damp, or cold. Dumbledore had called all the teachers together for a chat on how their classes were going, as he periodically did all throughout the year. And every single time, the old wizard had to ask if Severus was still happy with his classroom. The students weren't, of course, but Snape loved to watch them squirm and dare to ask him if they could go to the lavatory before they were done with their work.

The Slytherins weren't that bothered by it, seeing as how their own dormitory was in the dungeons, though it was much, much more comfortable than the Potions lab. That brought up another debate: whether or not Snape treated students fairly, not just the ones from his own house, but from the remaining three. He didn't; he chose his favorites, just like any other teacher, yet he decided to show his house loyalty in a more outright manner. He would have dared Dumbledore to say anything specifically about Harry Potter, but he did value his job.

Snape sat down behind his desk and let out an acrimonious sigh as he opened a drawer to take out his favorite quill. It was made of the finest, softest eagle feather, and would last a long time, what with all the P's, D's, and thankfully not many T's that he had to write in sharp red ink on his students' papers. He wasn't a vain person, and knew he wasn't rolling in the Galleons, but when it came to a proper quill, he couldn't be cheap. Snape pulled the pile of parchments haphazardly rolled up by messy students, and unrolled the first.

He frowned as he read it, but his expression wasn't due to the poorly explained properties of various dragon parts. Something wasn't right, and he was forced to look up and scan the room, glaring into the furthest, dustiest corners of the topmost shelves. What was wrong with this picture? It wasn't something overly large, but something minute. He turned his focus back onto his desk, and he saw nothing out of place. He was about to mark the paper in front of him when - wait - he saw a vial had been toppled over.

Full of parts of green and red blobs, mixing at some points to make a puke-like color, but still able to distinguish the separate colors. It should definitely not have been lying on its side, and there was no way that he had left it like that. Picking it up, Snape looked at it as if it would tell him an answer he'd long since wanted to know. After a moment, he set it down gently, upright, and looked back to his work.

Something still yet nagged at his senses, preying on his paranoia, and he plowed through the horridly written assignments. For once in his life, he was glad to find Miss Granger's paper, if only for a break in the monotonously blatant copying straight from the textbooks, and not even copying it down correctly. Ah, and when he was finished with them all, he didn't even bother getting up, but took out his wand and levitated them to a side table, ready for their distribution to their writers tomorrow.

Now, on to more important things, Snape thought as he stood from his chair and walked around his desk. The red and green vial had caught his attention yet again, and he noted that it was in plain sight from this angle towards the desk. As opposed to someone sitting in his chair, it was easy to knock over this particular bottle from this side. Snape ruled out someone rifling through his drawers, which he would have known if that was the case, anyway, as there were numerous charms on them to glue the trespasser's hands to the desk if they so chose to rummage through his things without permission.

He would have to think about this, but he didn't want any more work to be carried over to the next day, therefore piling up. It'd been a long time since he'd had an evening to himself, free from the toils of grading papers or filling in forms, or testing potions gone horribly wrong. Snape looked down at the small stack of forms on his desk, next to the ominous vial, and made to pick them up. He was surprised to find a slight resistance, and stopped pulling before he ripped the paper. Sliding his hand underneath, he felt a round spot where the papers were stuck to the surface of his desk, and he gently pried it off.

He had never, ever, in his eighteen years working at Hogwarts, spilled anything on his desk. Someone had been in here, and what on earth was this flaky substance on his fingers? He glared at the paper, and then turned his gaze on the desk. Stooping down, Severus ran a hand over the slightly bumpy desktop, and as he did so, lifting up more flakes from the small cracks and dips of his well used desk. He grimaced at it, and swore to take fifty points from the house of the student who defiled his desk with... whatever this was. Sweeping it onto the floor with a quickly conjured cloth, he made his way back to his chair and sat down with the order forms.

He began reading about the information requested from the person ordering, as he always did, even though he could almost tell a second party what it said by heart. When he came to the first blank in which he would fill in the first item in his stock that needed replenishing, he stopped. There was a small puddle, what Snape would have to call it, of something white sitting on the blank. He would almost have missed it, as it blended into the paper well enough, and he cruelly grinned as he set the paper down, opened another drawer with clean, empty test tubes inside.

Pulling one out, he scraped the substance inside of it, and put a stopper in the open hole to enclose it. Severus opened a third drawer, and set the tube gently inside for later. The contents of the cylindrical container intrigued him and disgusted him all at once. The substance was almost unmistakable, and he would definitely be running a test on it, and another potion would be in order for the bigger catch of the culprit. Yes, he'd look at it later, he promised himself, as he cleaned up what was left of the substance off the order form. He began to fill it out, putting in the usual things he ran out of, and one or two rarely used items that were for himself and his new project.

\----

"Now, remember we've only got ten minutes to eat," Hermione said as she walked, several paces ahead of Ron and Harry on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. "We've got a lot of studying to do still, and the NEWTs are only seven months away!"

Ron sighed and looked over to his best mate. "I swear," he said, interrupting himself with a yawn, "the closer it gets to our exams, the worse she gets. You'd think she'd slow down, but she just speeds up."

"Perpetual motion personified," Harry mumbled, nodding in agreement with Ron. He was still half asleep, and almost fell behind Ron's tired steps as well as Hermione's hurried ones. He'd had a restless night, and it must have been near to four in the morning before he fell asleep. Too many things had been floating through his mind, mostly centering around Draco, and what had happened the day before. If it wasn't so ridiculous to even ponder, Harry might almost think Draco had some sort of feelings for him.

Then again, just because someone was shagging you left and right, didn't mean they liked you. As they neared the Hall, Harry tried to slink out of Draco's view as he came around the corner followed by several other Slytherins. Pansy Parkinson was a perfect example of this; she was reputed to be rather slutty around the Slytherin House, and he knew for a fact that even the Slytherins, mostly, disliked her. Harry sighed and moved to Ron's other side, still following Hermione, and going through the huge double doors into the Great Hall.

He was too tired to listen to what people were chattering about eating at the moment, but his nose took the lead over to a big bowl of one of his favorite foods, porridge. Hermione had taken her seat across from her two best friends, who actually hadn't sat down yet, and began dishing things onto her plate like they were going to disappear. Harry sat down and stared at her unnaturally shoveling food into her mouth. Absent was the usual tome she had her face hidden behind, and usually someone had to prod her to take a break from reading to actually eat, but no one had to take on that small task this morning, as she was eating like she thought someone would snatch her food right out from under her face.

The Gryffindors surrounding her gave curious glances her way, wondering why the change this morning, but decided wisely not to ask, as she was bound to start talking before long. Ron sat next to Harry, taking their predetermined seats across the table from Hermione, and Ron began to eat just as quickly. He usually ate fast anyway, but instead of helping himself to thirds or fourths, he kept it down to seconds. Harry was just starting into his hot porridge, picking up a spoonful after he set his toast down, and blew on it a bit before putting the spoon in his mouth.

After only a few more spoonfuls, Harry started to stare blankly at his food, and yawned a few times. He was only startled out of a horrifying face dive into his bowl when someone would clink their fork or spoon a little too forcefully against their dishes. Not even a minute later, Hermione stood up, straightened her robes and hefted her bag over her shoulder. He had barely eaten half of his breakfast when Hermione crossed her arms and looked pointedly at her friends.

Ron had started to get up when he heard Hermione clear her throat, annoyed she was almost being ignored, when she had clearly told them that they had ten minutes before they were off to the library. Ron looked put upon as he picked up two more slices of toast and chewed on them quietly as Hermione seemingly appraised him for Merlin knows what. Being good enough to study with her, or something.

Harry, drawn out of his daze at the sudden odd silence around him, looked up and found Ron and Hermione watching him. Ron looked a bit toned down, and even his hair seemed to be flattened into submission, but dealing with an aggressive Hermione would do that to most anyone. Hermione stared at him, almost looking incredulous at his blank expression.

"What?" Harry asked as he set his spoon down before he dropped it, or something. He shifted his heavy-lidded eyes between the two, and tried not to make himself dizzy, and have his brain decide to take that dive into his porridge after all.

Other students around them began to watch as soon as the tension spilled over to them. She began tapping her foot, strangely audible in the loud room, but Hermione's face softened a bit as she took in the tired and worn out appearance of the other boy. "Are you almost finished, Harry?"

Harry looked down, his eyes a bit blurry, even through his glasses. He wasn't sure if his bowl was almost empty, but he would bet it wasn't, and that certainly looked like the shape of his teeth, that bite taken out of the toast sitting on his plate. "No," he said sleepily. "You go on, and I'll finish this up. I'll meet you in the library."

"Okay," Ron answered quickly, "we'll be in the library." He looked up to Hermione and his expression clearly said, 'Don't ask,' so she didn't. Harry absently nodded his thanks and actually started eating, feeling a bit hungry now that he had woken up a bit more. Ron grabbed his bag from under his seat on the long bench, and made his way to the doors, and out of the Great Hall.

Hermione was outside of the Hall before Ron was, and when he caught up with her, they started down the corridors towards the library. The only sounds while they walked down the hall were their footsteps and the sound of students growing more faint with every step. Once they turned the corner, Hermione asked a question. "Do you think he's alright?"

Ron shrugged his shoulders, turning to look at Hermione as he did so. "Dunno, really," he said. She frowned at him and she didn't speak again until they reached their usual table in the library. Madam Pince, the Hogwarts librarian, was already back from breakfast, sitting at her desk, and glowering over her glasses at them as they passed her.

They sat down at the table and Hermione lifted her bag onto its surface, starting to drag books out of it. Ron watched with trepidation; they were never-ending, four thousand page books. He hoped they were only going to be used for looking up reference points; he didn't read any of these from front to back in class, and he really didn't want to do it now, either. "I'm just going to read the chapter on foreign affairs and then I'll ask you questions."

He nodded and took out a much smaller book from his bag, flopped it open and started reading, trying to memorize anything at all. The library was quiet, only disturbed when they flipped pages, or Madam Pince's shoes tapping sharply on the wood floor as she stalked up and down aisles for whatever she was looking for. Suddenly, though, Hermione sat back in her chair and sighed.

Ron, glad to have a little break, looked up at her questioningly. She looked at her watch and pulled her sleeve back over it when she was done. "What's taking Harry so long?"

"Maybe he's still eating. Some people like to enjoy their breakfast," Ron answered, a bit longingly. Hermione rolled her eyes at him, knowing quite well he'd rather be sitting downstairs at Gryffindor table, eating more toasted bacon sandwiches, melded together with porridge. She held back a shudder at Ron's improvised breakfast; she put weird things together, too, sometimes so she couldn't talk. She'd been content with her soft boiled eggs and toast, but she did feel a bit bloated now, due to the speed in which she inhaled it all.

"I suppose I've been a bit harsh with our study schedule," Hermione admitted, ignoring Ron's comment involving the word 'understatement'. "Maybe he just wants some peace and quiet, with no one else around so he can study, uninterrupted."

"Why would he want that?" Ron asked, bewildered. "Why he'd want to do it himself when we have you to ride us hard, telling us what to study and when is beyond me." That was usually the closest Ron ever came to honestly thanking Hermione for always helping him with his studying. Without her, he would have failed a few classes, no doubt.

Hermione smiled, and Ron ducked his head a little. "Well," she said, still smiling, but she let it fade. "He does keep disappearing at odd times." Ron obviously saw this as something new, as he'd not noticed that before. "Oh, it's mostly when he thinks no one else is looking. Except me, of course, but I'm smart like that."

Ron grinned and threatened to chuckle, and Hermione cleared her throat. They all knew she liked being a know-it-all, but she had to admit it sometimes when she needed a little boost with her study efforts. "Maybe he's got a girlfriend?" Ron asked, and then thought about that for a moment. He wouldn't be jealous, but he'd wonder who.

"Harry?" Hermione asked. "But wouldn't he tell us?" She hoped he would, but at the same time, hoped he might not. She had other sights in mind, but she had to admit that Harry was good-looking, despite his ever tousled hair.

"He would have told me, I'd think," Ron said. "I dunno. Do you think he's a virgin?" As soon as Hermione blushed, Ron realized what he'd actually said. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"It's okay," she said, more quietly than she usually spoke. "I don't know. I'd think so, but sometimes you never know about people." She began to shuffle her books, and opened a new one, starting to feign reading as a distraction. Ron wondered what she meant by that, and thought, maybe she's had sex with someone? He felt like something heavy had dropped down into the pit of his half empty stomach, and oddly felt left out.

"He would have told us, right?" Ron asked, feeling bold and awkward at the same time. It had just hit him that they were all growing up, and wondered where the time had gone.

"Yeah," Hermione said quickly. "He still could be off studying, right?"

"Oh, yeah. That's probably what he's doing." They both were silent for a moment, both thinking the same things, though neither of them knew it. Hermione was wondering how Ron would think about her if he knew how far she'd gone with a boy. Ron was thinking about their fourth year, when he'd barely recognized Hermione at the dance. They both were thinking about each other, in a more personal way than they had before.

Then, there was Harry. Could he really be having sex with someone? Who would it be? Hermione hadn't noticed anyone else gone when Harry was, but it could very well be someone from another house. She wasn't jealous, but she truly would think Harry would tell her something like this. It was important, and she hoped Ron would, too, despite the fact it would be an uncomfortable situation.

He thought he would know Harry well enough by their seventh year to know if he was a virgin or not. It was a hard thing to tell, though. He would have told me, Ron thought, surely he would have told me. Unless it was someone ugly, but they didn't even personally know anyone that was ugly. Maybe Hermione was right, and Harry was just studying by himself. Harry would have certainly told them that, though, wouldn't he?

Hermione might have been a bit upset, but if he'd have told Ron, they could have broken it to her softly. Hermione had stopped flipping pages, and looked across the table to see Ron looking back at her. They both had rather blank expressions, though there were obviously many little gears turning, and a few new ones had undoubtedly started up as well. Their eyes met, and they shared a worried concern about Harry, but decided to let it go.

It was hard to look away, so they kept looking at each other, and started attempting to avoid each other's eyes at the same time, before Ron cleared his throat unnecessarily loudly. "Right," he started, sounding determined. If Harry needed some time to himself, they wouldn't interfere, unless he started to look worse, or missed any classes. Ron leaned across the table to grab one of Hermione's Muggle Studies texts; he flipped a few pages. "What is the Muggle Prime Minister's knowledge of the Ministry of Magic, and how and why would the Minister liaise with his Muggle counterpart?"

\----


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See Chapter 1

Harry had managed to finish his bowl of porridge, and started onto another piece of toast. He hardly remembered Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the library; when he looked up, and saw that they weren't there, he woke up a bit more. He grabbed a napkin to wipe his face, and stuffed the last bite of toast into his mouth. Neville had been looking at him off and on during the last ten minutes, and had asked if he was alright, just as Hermione had. Was he really alright? Did he look that bad? He'd smiled easily and said he was fine, and Neville seemed acquiesced, so Harry made for the doors, en route to the library to meet his friends.

From across the Hall, Draco was quite bored with the chatter around him, not to mention almost sick from the slurping sounds to his left and right. Crabbe and Goyle were in their usual positions, faces down, seemingly barely an inch away from their bowls, shoving food in their mouths. Blaise sat across from him, one hand on top of his copy of the morning's _Daily Prophet_ , index finger moving down one line at a time as he read. His other hand was wrapped around a mug of coffee, and Draco wondered how he'd gotten that. The house-elves were usually under orders not to give coffee to the students. He'd have to ask Blaise later.

Draco had finished the meager portions of soft boiled egg and English muffin he'd dished onto his own plate, and had downed a glass of water afterwards. He wished they'd had chairs instead of the long benches at the tables in the Great Hall, as he really wanted to sit back right now. He didn't think the rest of his House were that loyal to him to all get up and drag the entire table closer to the wall so he could lean on it in lieu of a chair back.

Straightening his back, Draco gazed over the top of heads to try and catch a glimpse of the Gryffindor table. He scanned along it, and only saw one patch of bright red hair. He frowned, knowing that it was the Weaslette, and then looked back down the table, paying no heed to having lost his air of nonchalance. To his luck, he saw Harry stand up from his seat three-quarters of the way down the table. Each year had a habit of keeping to themselves, usually the oldest years were at the back of the room, and successively each year younger went in front of them, all the way up to the first years sitting at the other end facing the staff table at the head of the room.

"I forgot my bag in the common room," Draco said absently, to no one in particular. Blaise didn't even look at him, but slightly raised an eyebrow, knowing full well that Draco had left his bag in their room. Draco didn't want to lug it upstairs when they were going right back down to the dungeons for Potions anyway, but Blaise digressed, and made a small 'hmm', that was probably not even heard by Draco.

Draco got up from the table, trying not to walk with his usual attention-grabbing presence as he made his way to the end of the Slytherin table. Harry was already half way to the doors, and there weren't many students leaving at this time, in the middle of breakfast. Draco thought of flipping the hood of his robes up, hiding his telltale silver blond hair, but thought that might be just as conspicuous, especially following right after Harry. He wondered if Dumbledore was watching his favorite student, and knowing that he and Draco certainly didn't get on very well, if he'd send McGonagall out to investigate, or something.

Thankfully, no one seemed to notice, and Draco made it out of the Great Hall overlooked and veered to the side, stepping out of the way of the open doors so no one would see him. He looked left, and frowned, not seeing Harry, but then turned to his right. There was Harry. Pretty little Harry Potter: all alone. Draco smirked and started after him, being as quiet as possible. Harry's shoes weren't making much of a sound on the stone floor, but Draco's boots would make a much louder thump if no precautions were taken, as he stalked his prey.

Draco slid his wand out of the special pocket it was hidden in, inside his robes, and whispered something to it, still walking as he did so. He aimed it at Harry's side, which was swaying in and out of view, as his arm swung back and forth. When Draco decided he had a good enough shot, he gave his wand a flick and out squirted some thick black ink, splattering all down the side of Harry's trousers.

Draco was about to do it again, or simply utter another charm under his breath, and break Potter's ink bottle inside his bag. Maybe that would get his attention - but - oh, there. Harry finally noticed. Draco heard a slightly frustrated, defeated sigh. It wasn't usual for Harry to sound so despondent, but he had a lot on his mind. He knew there was a bathroom on this hall, just a few more doors down, and Draco knew the same. He dared to walk a bit faster, catching up to Harry as he pushed the door open to the boys' lavatory.

"Morning, Potter," Draco said, faking a pleasant, friendly tone. It sounded almost wrong on him, considering who he was talking to. Harry didn't respond, but only sighed, moving to look into a mirror. He turned on a tap and washed his hands, rubbing a wet one over his mouth to get rid of any toast crumbs while ignoring Malfoy.

"What, no good morning kiss?" Draco asked, again in such a parody of taking offence, bringing a hand up to snake his fingers through the dark hair on Harry's head. He tightened his fingers and pulled Harry back by his hair. Harry hissed and bent his knees to try and duck away, but it only served to slightly unbalance him when Draco only pulled so far, twisted his head towards him, and pressed a quick, smacking kiss on Harry's lips.

Harry grabbed for the edge of the sink with a gasp as Draco swiftly let go his grip in Harry's hair, and without a moment to spare, moved in behind Harry. Draco wrapped a hand around Harry's waist and between the folds of his robes to undo the button and zipper of his trousers, again opting to simply yank them down instead of magicking them off. It proved more worthwhile to do it this way, as Harry had less of a chance of deciding to kick out, or try to run away, or rather, hobble away.

The other hand was lifted up to grasp Harry's chin, forcing his head to the side to display both of their faces in the mirror above the sink Harry was holding onto. "Well, look at us, will you?" Harry couldn't do much else but look at them, as Draco was holding him there. He supposed he could close his eyes, but he didn't want to. "I bet you don't even have to shave," Draco said, rubbing his thumb across Harry's smooth cheek.

Indeed, Harry didn't, and he said so. "No." He didn't know why he even answered, why he felt like he should even dignify Malfoy with any type of response. He doubted he could manage that, though, as the hand twisting its way into his boxers took hold of his growing arousal. Draco 'hmm'd' just like Blaise had done, and let go of Harry's chin. Harry looked down into the sink and resteadied his grip. Draco pulled his own trousers down to expose himself, and took his now free hand and stroked himself into full hardness.

"Turn the tap on," Draco ordered, and Harry did. Water for lube, and he wasn't even too terribly worried about having it splashed onto his clothes. His trousers had been shoved down to around his knees, and the back of his robe pushed around his side. Draco's hand that had been on his own length poked through the gap between his body and his arm, and Harry watched him sufficiently wet his hand before pulling it away to brush the wetness onto himself. He did it again, and then a third time he wet his hand and ran it up Harry's crack, teasing a finger there.

Harry let out a small moan at the cool, wet, tickling sensation, but was silenced quickly. "Shh," Draco said, rather close to his ear, his chest pressed against Harry's back, and his hand between them, poised for entrance. Harry strained to hear what Draco did, and his eyes widened when he heard faint voices, male voices, coming closer. Suddenly, Draco pulled him back and shuffled them into a stall, slamming the door behind them.

They were paused, silent, standing together, Draco's arm around Harry's waist, holding his cock, which gave a twitch of excitement when, a moment later, the door to the bathroom was opened, and they heard at least two boys come inside. They'd left the water on, Harry realized, and they apparently shut it off after one washed his own hands under it. They heard the open and close again, and Harry was about to say something when he heard footsteps and then another stall door close, at least two doors from the one they were standing silently inside.

Draco gave Harry's cock a squeeze with his hand, and rubbed his own between Harry's cheeks. Harry tried to turn and look at Draco warningly, but Draco held firm, not letting him move too much, to make too much noise. They already knew someone was in here, Harry thought, because the tap had been left on, and they saw no one in the hall in front of them, because there probably was no one in the hall in front of them. Draco pulled himself away slowly from Harry's body, and turned to put the lid down on the toilet, trying not to make it click against the bowl too loudly and give themselves away.

Harry moved with pliancy, and rustled a bit as he walked, or hobbled, the two feet back to where Draco was sitting and pulling him backwards by his robes. Harry almost cursed as he lost his balance, hitting Draco's foot with his own, not knowing how far away it had been. Draco held up his other hand to steady him, but wrapped his fingers over Harry's hip and pulled him down to sit on his lap. He shoved Harry's robes out of the way, and held onto his length, grinning maliciously as Harry's arse came down closer and closer until it met Draco's hips.

He held them both still as he burrowed into Harry as the dark-haired boy sat down, but this time, unable to stifle his groan, he let it out. Draco stilled for a moment, and no one said anything; not them, or the other unknown occupant of the bathroom. They heard a flush, shuffling feet, and then a stall door creak open. The tap turned on and off quickly, and then came almost hurried-sounding footsteps to the door, which slammed shut. Harry let out a sigh, as much for relief that they were alone again, as to try and relax himself on Draco.

Draco paused a moment, straining to hear past Harry's breathing, to make sure they were utterly alone. Satisfied that they wouldn't give anyone a free show, Draco lifted Harry slightly off him before yanking him back down quickly. Harry let out a gasp of pleasure as the downward motion made the other boy hit his prostate directly. He repeated the motion a few more times before he stopped. Draco leaned forward, pulling Harry back a little so he could whisper roughly into his ear. "Ride me."

He had his eyes closed in pleasure, panting with every drive into him. Harry only just registered the soft breath against his ear before he was vaguely aware that he was being spoken to. His eyes opened when he heard what Draco said--demanded really, and through his dazed pleasure, shook his head. Draco moved to push Harry's hips up, intent on slamming them back down, but when he tried, he met resistance. Harry refused to move; if Malfoy wanted to use him like this, he was damned if he was going to partake in it at least completely willingly. He didn't even like the guy, after all...right?

Draco scowled, furious that Harry wasn't obeying his command. He tried to thrust the dark-haired boy off his groin, ready to pull him back down, but, again, with no success. Draco was at a loss, and he wasn't even in a choice position to sit there, Harry Potter on his lap, refusing to fuck him. Draco gritted his teeth and stood abruptly, Harry still connected to him, and spun them around. Harry was now facing the toilet, having flung his arms to either side of the wall behind it for support as Draco bent him over roughly.

He pushed down on Harry's upper back to hold him still while he pulled out halfway and pushed back in. Harry threw his head back with a cry of pleasure as the change in angle made his prostate an easier target. Draco continued his assault with rough, hard strokes, changing the speed periodically so as not to peak too soon.

Harry licked his dry lips and closed his eyes once more, enjoying Draco's deep advances. It wasn't long before Harry was trying to squeeze his eyes shut even further, clenching his jaw as the water used as impromptu lube began to evaporate, leaving him in prime position for a dry fuck. He tried to relax his muscles as much as possible to reduce friction, but it wasn't working. Draco had noticed this as well, and Harry knew he'd become uncomfortable, too.

Draco began to hurry his pace, wanting to finish up quickly, to lessen the pain on his member. He wanted to climax before the other boy wanted to pull away completely, the pain becoming too much. Tears welled in his eyes and started to creep down his cheeks as the pain increased, and, desperate to find some source of pleasure to combat it, took himself in hand. Harry began to pull at himself off at a frantic pace to match his assailant, hoping it would do the trick.

Feeling his climax approaching, Draco pressed into Harry only a few more times before his stomach clenched and his bollocks tightened as his orgasm hit. His jaw went slack and he breathed out a silent moan of pleasure as he slaked his lust in the dark-haired boy. Harry felt the warmth ease a bit of the internal hurt, and soon followed suit with his own release. Their breathing mingled together in the now quiet lavatory, heavy with the afterglow of their orgasms.

Draco's hands were holding onto Harry's hips, and he gripped them tight when he caught his breath, easing one more time into Harry before pulling away. He watched as his softening member slid out of the reddened passage, and he narrowed his eyes, holding back a bit of a wince at the light smear of blood along his length.

Harry started to straighten his back when he felt Draco pull away from him. He felt empty when Draco shifted, and Harry bore down experimentally, wincing as he forced the stretched muscles together again. It lessened the pain marginally, but it still hurt a lot. He dreaded sitting down for two hours in - Potions! _Oh, no_ , Harry thought. He'd forgotten about his first class, and now he had to find out what time it was, and go down to the dungeons for two hours.

"What time is it?" Harry dared to ask, not even knowing if Malfoy was still there, as blood had rushed past his ears, and he was a bit dizzy. He turned around to see the slightly blurred back of the silver blond's head, and then was pushed almost flush to Draco as he moved back to open the door of the stall.

"We have five minutes," Draco said, looking at the clock above the door to the hallway. He'd already pulled up his trousers and buttoned them, and he moved to the sinks to wash his hands. Everything else would have to wait until later, because there really wasn't time to wash himself off, unless he wanted to be late for class. Snape wasn't too kind to anyone being late for his classes, Slytherin or not.

Harry groaned, as much for trying to walk as thinking about the prospect of detention for being late. Maybe, if he was lucky, he'd only get points deducted. Fat chance, he thought. He'd be lucky if he got there even five minutes late. Stupid dungeons. Draco turned and looked at him, shaking water droplets off his hands before drying them briefly on his robe; there wasn't even time to go to the other side of the room and grab some paper towels instead.

Harry did the same as Draco left the room, without another word to each other. Harry looked at himself in the mirror for a second, frowning at his disheveled appearance. Not much he could do about it at the moment, though, so he left the lavatory as well. There was no one else in the hall, and Harry looked down the left end of the corridor, frowning. He heard footsteps, but Draco was nowhere in sight. Suddenly, the footsteps stopped, and Harry heard a shuffle, and, turning around, he saw Draco beside a statue of the four Hogwarts founders.

"Come on," Draco called, when he saw Harry walking towards him. He was still about ten meters away, and Draco watched as Harry started into an awkward run. He knew full well why he looked even more like a girl when he ran, and he even had the decency to grimace in sympathy for the other boy. Harry winced as he ran, and tried to keep any further friction to a minimum until he reached Malfoy.

"Hurry up, Potter," Draco said, sounding a bit annoyed when Harry stopped a few feet away. It was the least he could do, he supposed, after fucking him into submission, making him bleed. He put a hand under his robes and slid it up under his Slytherin House badge, lifting it away from his body and pressing it against a stone brick in the wall.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he watched in amazement as the brick glowed emerald green before beginning to slide apart, rearranging themselves until there was a doorway formed in the previously solid wall. Draco ignored him and started down the narrow passage, soon coming to a stairwell. Harry still stood there, staring, and was brought back to the present when the stones began to move back into place. He quickly squeezed through the closing door and followed after the other boy.

There were torches on the walls, becoming further and further apart, almost leaving the passage in complete darkness as they walked. Harry let his hands run along the walls, absently wondering if Malfoy was leading him to certain death. Perhaps a pit full of snakes, or Snape's office, where he could wait for detention without embarrassing himself by turning up late. Clearly, though, this was only a secret passage used by Slytherins. He'd never seen anyone else use it, and sincerely doubted it'd work with any of the other house's badges.

Draco led the way down the stairs, briefly interrupted by a small, flat landing before the stone steps continued. He stopped and held up a hand to halt Harry from running into him from behind, and he listened to something ahead of them. Harry couldn't tell if the stairs continued, but he assumed they led all the way down to the dungeons. They'd already come down a fair lot of them, so they must be close. "Go first," Draco whispered to him, and stepped out of the way so Harry could pass.

Harry squeezed past Malfoy and started to hold up a hand to feel what he was supposed to go ahead into. When he was about to take an uncertain step, he felt a hand on his back, pushing him roughly through what seemed like a solid wall. "Hurmph!" a haughty-looking woman in a portrait huffed at him when he stumbled out into the hall.

He turned to see where he'd come out of the wall, and saw she was brushing her hands down her dress, seemingly ruffled. Harry guessed he'd come out right through her when she leveled a glare at him, and he glared back. There he was, right in the middle of a dungeon hallway, and he saw the familiar surrounding portraits and adornments on the walls, and made his way to the Potions lab.

\---

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Snape drawled as Draco casually walked into the room. "So nice of you to grace us with your presence." He let a small sneer creep over his lips in response to Draco's feigned pleasant smile at his teacher. Without waiting for Draco to sit down, Snape started his class. Harry had been able to blend into a group of other stragglers that were cutting it close for getting to class as well, and had easily gained entrance to the room and joined his friends at their usual table.

He'd just taken his books from Ron's bag, thankful that someone remembered them for him, when he spared a small glance across the room when Draco sat down. He'd pulled out his chair, scraping it indignantly across the stone floor. Snape barely stopped his speech on dragon dung to take ten points from Slytherin, and Draco just lounged back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. Harry felt a sharp prod to his side and turned to see Hermione looking at him, a worried expression on her face.

Harry forced a faint smile back at her, trying to reassure her without speaking, as Snape had begun his usual droning. "I'm fine," he dared to whisper. She raised an eyebrow but turned her attention back to Snape. Harry looked much more awake now than he had earlier, and Hermione seemed to be placated by his admission, and let it be.

"This potion will most definitely be included on your NEWTs," Snape continued, slowly pacing across the front of the room before their tables. "I'd highly advise all of you," he paused to level a stern look at Harry, "to pay attention." Harry, indeed, wasn't paying attention, and made a point of nodding firmly, but minutely, at his teacher.

"You will need the following ingredients..." As Snape started in on his lecture, what little attention of Harry's he'd had soon faded. Harry only caught a bit of it here and there; he was too busy trying to nonchalantly cushion his sore bottom. He tried to lean to one side, but Ron looked at him like he was going to rip one right there and then, and though the redhead might have been proud of his daring to do it, he really didn't want to get in trouble for it.

When his efforts seemed not to be going anywhere, he then attempted to subtly bunch his robes up underneath his arse. He managed to provide himself with a minimal amount of cushioning, but it wasn't enough. Not only was he sore, but he was also beginning to feel Draco's cum ease its way out of his hole. Harry was eternally grateful for black robes, praying that there still wouldn't be a dark spot if it soaked all the way through.

To be quite honest, it almost felt like he was pissing out of his arse, and that bloody well wasn't a very pleasant sensation. It was starting to puddle in his boxers and beginning to feel a bit tacky. What he really wanted right now, was to go clean himself out, or have a nice long sit on the loo. He sighed quietly to himself, trying his damnedest to lessen the oozing and pay attention to what Snape was saying at the same time.

He must not have been paying satisfactory attention, because he suddenly found himself the center of attention for the entire class. The room had gone quiet and all eyes were focused on him, and that didn't feel too good either. He hoped they didn't know what he had been squirming for, and he had to force himself to look forward once again, to see Snape frowning at him. "Am I boring you, Mr. Potter?"

"No, sir," he replied, wanting to duck his head, but again forcing himself to look Snape in the eye. If he could only have one Potions lesson without being embarrassed or singled out, he'd have done his duty, and could die in peace, not from said embarrassment. It wasn't his fault he had semen dripping out of his rear end.

Snape continued staring down at him, and with a quick disbelieving squint, stood to his full height. "Then I would suggest that you stop squirming in your seat, and perhaps pay attention to what's being taught."

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, hating Snape every bit as much as he always had, and, if possible, just a little bit more. Snape really didn't seem to think he was really going to pay attention, and felt the need to continue speaking to him. Harry would have been quite content for Snape never to utter another word at the moment.

"Unless," he started, "you think you're ready to take your Potions NEWTs today? If so, then by all means, Potter," he gestured to the closed door at the end of his classroom, "you can leave."

Harry hunched his shoulders slightly, really wanting this day to be over so he could go take a nice hot shower and go to bed. "No, sir." Snape sniffed and turned around abruptly to face the other side of the class, satisfied that he'd brought the famous Harry Potter down one more notch, and continued the lesson.

Harry did his best to ignore the wet, squishiness inside of his pants. He succeeded for only a few moments before his thoughts were dredged back to his problem once again, focused solely on his crack becoming steadily slippery. He didn't even know his friends had noticed his continued squirming, and knew he couldn't have been doing it for attention. Harry would have worn his invisibility cloak to Potions every day if he could do that and still take his NEWTs for the class in the end.

As much as he didn't want to admit that he needed his Potions NEWT to apply for a lot of wizarding jobs he was interested in, he did. Ron felt the same way, too, but he wasn't paying attention to Snape, either; he was more interested to find out why Harry seemingly had ants crawling up his arse. Ron was about to ask him just that, trying to take advantage of Snape leaning down to a Slytherin table, finding a page in Crabbe's text, but Snape turned back to face them, grimacing as he peeled two pages apart that had been apparently stuck together with pink frosting.

Snape frowned and shook his head at a sheepish looking Crabbe, and then began his lecture. Harry, oblivious to Ron's aborted attempt at conversation, gave up and raised his hand, hoping like hell he'd be allowed to go to the loo. Snape turned around from his desk and, at first, ignored Harry. He tried not to wave his arm around frantically to try and get Snape to acknowledge him, and settled for wiggling his fingers slightly. Snape looked at him now, and raised an eyebrow before uncrossing his arms and putting his hands on his hips, looking rather menacing as he glowered down at Harry.

"Can I use the lavatory, sir?" Harry asked, not too loud as to disrupt anyone else, but when Snape took up these poses, most people were inherently aware of it anyway, not wanting to have him swoop down on them and criticize their work.

Snape made a point of stopping the entire class, though, by gathering their attention with a loud sigh, looking quite put upon at the innocent question. "Can't it wait until after class, Potter?" He crossed his arms and let his eyes bore into Harry's. If he hadn't had the entire class' attention when he'd first asked his question, he did now.

"No, sir," Harry pleaded. There was a brief moment of silence before Snape waved his hand negligently in Harry's direction as he turned around to resume what he had been doing. Draco smirked, knowing full well why Harry wanted to go to the bathroom. He had to sympathize, though; he was starting to feel a bit crusty himself.

\---

The remainder of the class was spent with Snape's lecture which seemed to finally be drawing to a close. He scowled when he was interrupted by the bell, and knew he had to stop so the students could get to their next class. Actually, they would all have fallen asleep if it wasn't for the detailed gore that Snape kept describing, relating to whatever he was on about at the time. There had been a fifteen minute question period, and Harry was surprised to see more than three hands go up, and he didn't think they were all to ask for a bathroom break.

Even Harry had a question, but it was disjointed and, frankly, rather stupid. Hermione had shaken her head at him, grinning slightly, as she knew he was just tired. Ron had laughed, along with others, but that had quelled quite quickly as a muscle in Snape's cheek had begun to twitch. He was clearly annoyed that Harry hadn't been really paying attention; he'd been paying attention to the best of his ability at the time, but he really was starting to get sleepy again.

"Mr. Potter," Snape started, in a quiet voice which everyone quieted to hear. They were almost afraid he was going to start yelling any moment now. "That is an irrelevant question, not to mention utter rubbish. I was starting to think you had a bigger brain than Weasley, but I was obviously mistaken." Ron frowned at the shot, but wisely stayed quiet, averting his eyes when Snape slid his glare over to him.

On the other side of the room, some of the Slytherins were trying to hold in laughter, and the ominous silence didn't seem to bother them at all. When Snape turned towards them, having broken out with a few chuckles and a snort, more laughter bubbled, and no one was watching as Snape advanced to the first table and slammed his fist down hard. "Mr. Malfoy! Do you think this is funny?" Draco immediately stopped chuckling and lowered his gaze, settling it on Snape's fist, knuckles turning white on it. "Ten points from Slytherin," he snarled. "Is _that_ funny?"

"No, sir," Draco said, keeping his voice loud enough to be defiant and stand up for himself, but not loud enough for Snape to become even more angry. Snape jerked his hand away and sighed heavily, not even fully aware of why he'd snapped like that himself, and his class certainly had no idea. He leveled another glare at Harry, but turned back to his desk for a moment and blindly shuffled some things. A few shuffles interspersed with low murmurs told Snape that it was safe to continue without too many awkward glances, and he turned around to finish his lecture.

Harry sighed quietly to himself in relief when the bell rang. He had never been more happy to be let out of the Potions lab than he was right now. After Snape's outburst, most of the class had kept their eyes on their professor, not daring to fool around in any miniscule way at all, and therefore Harry still hadn't noticed the continued glances of his friends trying to catch his attention.

Snape had whirled around to sit in his chair behind his desk and watched the students file out of his classroom before he could slam the door behind them. He watched as Potter picked up his school bag and headed for the door, almost colliding with Malfoy as he made his way towards the threshold. Snape frowned as they were jostled together by the crowd around them, shoulder touching shoulder. If he was not mistaken, there was a small glance between the two, clearly surreptitious on both accounts.

Their classmates had mostly all gone before them and were filing through the doorway, and when they came to it themselves, neither seemed to want to go through first. Never mind that they could walk through it at the same time, but that proved to brush bodies against one another, even if the doorway was wide enough for two bodies to go through, especially such lithe frames as the two boys that had caught Snape's eye. They seemed to hastily press themselves in opposite directions, yet not separating themselves too far, after their shoulders had brushed.

The few students behind them were trying to edge further ahead, and Snape could see a group of students clogging up the hall in front of his door; early birds for his next class. Snape was about to go over and hustle them out and clear the hall when he was almost astounded to see Draco nonchalantly decline his head, and Harry lowered his eyes and went first. This was a most unusual thing to see happening between a pair of Hogwarts most prominent rivals. Why Malfoy, a Slytherin, would bow in to Potter, of all the Gryffindors, to go through a door first, of all things, was beyond him at the moment, and Snape yelled at them to get a move on.

After the last of the Seventh Years had left his room, the few early Fifth Years had came in, and began setting up their cauldrons to start into their presentations, some having to brew their potion longer than others. Snape was impressed with the work they were putting into it, and had decided he'd give them a good enough grade just for that, even if their abysmal potions brought that mark down considerably. Yet this new behavior he'd seen, even if it was only for that split second in time, wouldn't leave Snape's mind. He nodded a greeting to one of the students as he stood up, before drawing the heavy velvet curtain around his desk, shrouding it in darkness and at least a bit more privacy.

Snape lit the lamp hanging from the ceiling above his desk with a flick of his wand, and sat back in his chair, elbows on the arm rests, his fingers steepled together as he continued with his thoughts. He leaned forward to open the drawer he'd placed the small tube in the other day, and he picked it up gently, squinting his eyes at it, as if that would tell him who exactly it belonged to. No matter if that couldn't, though, as he had the time and the potion already produced that would tell him.

Picking up his wand again, Snape summoned said potion from a table to the side, and it landed in the palm of his other hand softly. He set it down, as well as his wand, and picked up the test tube. Snape wiggled the stopper out of the end, and let the contents ooze out, and fall with a small 'bloop' into the waiting potion. He picked up the jar and swirled the contents, mixing the sample into the blood red liquid. Severus watched as black lines started to spread from the center of the sample, and twist and turn, curl and coil, until they formed themselves into words before his very eyes. No, it couldn't be him, could it?

Well, he shouldn't have been surprised, really. The fact that Harry Potter would have had the audacity to shag, not only in his classroom, but against his desk, was at the top of the list for a personal slight against someone, and he knew very well that he and the Boy Who Lived were not the best of friends. His lip curled at the thought, and Severus turned a menacing glare at the evidence. He vowed to take as many points as he could from Gryffindor without being too suspicious for Potter's childish behavior.

Snape picked up the jar again, and swirled it, waiting for the second name to come up. He must have waited at least a minute, and still nothing. The black lines were twisted up, and not unraveling to reveal a second DNA owner. If Potter was alone, he had obviously caught most of his semen, and only hastily wiped the rest off Snape's desk. Snape frowned at that thought; why in the world would Potter be having a wank against the side of his desk? Unless... he really wasn't alone.

He was not interested, at all, in the trajectory of any of Potter's bodily fluids, but as Snape was determined to find out why the boy had been in his office space, he had to contemplate that sickening image. As much as it was equally another subject he had never wanted to contemplate, Potter must have been with a partner, and that partner would have to have been male. Add to that, the odd scene he'd witness just a few minutes ago, and Snape was again astounded to see connections lighting up in his mind left and right.

Getting up from out of his chair, he put the potions away, and was intent on throwing back the curtain and visiting the little insect when a thought suddenly stopped him as it appeared in his head. Why, if Potter wasn't the only one involved, he should be at least fair about point deductions. He would have to find out who the other participant was in the situation. He let a cruel smile stretch his lips as he made a few quick notes on a bit of parchment. A potion could be made, but it might not have a great chance of telling him much, especially if all traces were gone from Potter's system before Severus could put the next potion into action.

It would take a few days to complete, but it was one way to find things out. Merlin knew he was not about to go asking his students about their dirty little sex lives. Snape turned away from his desk again and sneered at the potion before locking the cupboard he'd placed it inside. Until he found out for sure who Potter's co-conspirator was, though he had his suspicions, he could thoroughly enjoy making Potter's young life a living hell.

\---

Draco had gone straight to the Slytherin common room after Potions, having ten minutes of free time before he had to be in Care of Magical Creatures. He'd gone to his room, and had gotten his Quidditch robes together, along with his Nimbus 2001, and had set them all in place for tomorrow. They had practice right after lunch, and afternoon classes were canceled for the day, due to the first Quidditch match of the season.

There were posters noting the event all over the school, and when Draco left his room, he went to the Slytherin notice board to look at one. He knew he wasn't the best player in the world, but he enjoyed the game and that was what counted. He scoffed quietly to himself; he'd never thought he'd hear himself think something like that before. He really hoped the recent proximity to Potter wasn't wearing off some of the Gryffindor's morals on him.

Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff, first weekend in November, classes canceled, what could go wrong? Slytherin was sure to win, and have the rest of the afternoon off to do whatever they wanted. Just as Draco was about to head for the door, it swung open, revealing their Head of House. Snape burst through the large stone door with a medium sized box in his arms, which strangely had a few vines twisting out from the corners it'd obviously broken through.

"I need a volunteer," he called out. Several people came forward, eyeing the box curiously, but not wanting to get too close. "This box needs to go to Professor Sprout, and as I'm not in the right mood to deal with her, I'm leaving it up to one of you." No one showed any interest in the task, and Snape sighed. "Ten points if someone takes it," he added.

Crabbe pushed his way past a fourth year, "I'll take it."

Snape raised his eyebrow, fighting the urge to ask to see the large boy's hands. "As much as I'd really not let you do this for me based on common logic, I'd disallow it for your safety as well. I doubt any kind or color of frosting would react well with this particular sentient plant. Any others?" Snape glanced around, and caught sight of Draco, who had sat down to wait until Snape had left before he went up to the main floor. Draco had one eyebrow slightly raised, and Snape thought it was due to the fact that he'd offered back the points he'd taken away for Draco's laughter earlier.

A few students had followed his gaze over to Draco, who had swung a leg over the edge of the chair he was sitting in, staring right back at Snape. "Alright," Snape growled, drawing their attention again. "Take it," Snape said, thrusting the box into Crabbe's arms, and dismissed them all from his immediate presence. As he made his way back up the steps to the door, he almost looked back over his shoulder, but he knew full well that Draco was still watching him. Draco knew he knew something.

The only class held in the dungeons was Potions, and very rarely did Prefects roam the dark corridors of the basement. The only other time students were down there was for an occasional detention with Snape, or if Filch had a particularly bad problem with fungi in a damp room, used for nothing else but storage. If it wasn't a personal slight against Snape, Potter must have had some other reason to be in the dungeons. Perhaps he was looking for someone, or waiting for them.

\---

After Potions, Harry had made his way to the kitchens and got himself a snack. He had to politely decline the feast that Dobby kept offering, as he had to get to class, and didn't think he could eat that much, let alone do it in ten minutes. Hermione hadn't even wanted to let him out of her sight, but she relented, and she and Ron had gone out to meet Hagrid before class started. Harry was on his way there now, across the Hogwarts grounds, towards Hagrid's hut.

He might not actually have liked Care of Magical Creatures all that much, since Hagrid tended to have wild creatures about, but he enjoyed spending time with his friend. Since this was a double class, they'd be joined by the Slytherins again. Maybe Harry would be able to sit near Malfoy or something, maybe talk to him. He had no idea what he'd ever say to the other boy, but he just didn't like the fact that he couldn't at all without a teacher nosing about, or others around who might think their speaking while remaining civil was a sign of impending apocalypse.

Ron looked up from trying to calm his Monster Book of Monsters into submission, and saw Harry almost to where they were waiting, just outside of Hagrid's. After Hagrid had told them how to train the books, most of them still rebelled, and several people usually conveniently forgot their books when their teacher asked. More like they were still trapped in a cage of some sort. He retied his Gryffindor colored scarf around the book again, not having much luck, and dropped it onto the table in front of them. "Oi, Harry's here," he said, and nudged Hermione in the side.

"Ow, Ron," Hermione said, rubbing slightly at her injured ribs. "Don't poke so hard," she complained, before ducking her head slightly, realizing what she'd said. She looked in the direction Ron was pointing in and most other unnecessary thoughts were pushed to the side for the moment when she saw Harry. Hermione waved at him as he walked over, but before he got there, she leaned to whisper to Ron. "Did he tell you what was up with him in Potions? He really was acting a bit odd."

Ron shook his head, turning his head to look at Hermione. "Nope," he shrugged. "I tried asking during class, but Snape kept watching us, and I definitely didn't want a detention with that slimy git." Harry was just getting to their table, not having heard their conversation. He had been pretty much wrapped up in his own thoughts to do anything but stare at them as he approached.

"Hi," Harry said, setting his own book down on the table. Ron's gave a little type of jiggle, trying to get out of the scarf and to sniff the other book, or something. With those books, you never knew. Before Hermione could ask Harry anything, Hagrid came out of his hut with a large crate. It seemed to have some type of mud and twigs and maybe even water in it, and all kinds of things came sloshing out of the cracks as he walked to their table.

"Dugbogs," he leaned down to them and said, adding a wink. He grinned and turned away, and they really hoped Dugbogs weren't anything dangerous. More students were arriving and eyeing the muddy crate suspiciously.

"Oh, please tell me we're not studying earthworms," drawled a voice from behind them, and Harry's heart started a faster pace, and he tried hard not to twist his head around to see the owner of that voice.

"Alrigh' now," Hagrid boomed as he came back to them and started poking around in the crate. "This 'ere," he said, holding up what looked like a stick, "is a Dugbog."

"It's a hunk of dead wood," Malfoy called out, having sat himself on top of a table and reclining backwards on it. Harry didn't even hear Hagrid's response, as his attention was drawn to Draco's body. He was taller than Harry, but not by too much, and Harry thought he might be a bit more muscular, or else they were even on that front. He'd never seen Draco's bare chest, had he? He frowned as he found he could barely picture the first time that Draco had taken him on the grounds.

He looked around himself, and realized that they hadn't even been far from where the tables were set up. It hadn't even been that long ago, either. Hermione's voice broke through his own thoughts, her "answer my damn question or I'll never shut up" tone always seemed to do that. "Have they ever killed anyone?" she asked. She'd had to stop asking more politely, since Hagrid never gave her a good answer to "Are they dangerous?" Hagrid had a very different perception of what was dangerous or not.

Hagrid look affronted at the question, but answered it none the less. "Well, no. Bu' they 'ave bin known ter gnaw off a finger er two, bu' tha's only when they're very, very aggravated." He nodded his huge head, looking quite serious about it. Draco had gotten off the table when some of their classmates set their struggling books onto it, and Ron looked a little put down that he wasn't the only one to think of tying their scarf around the Monster Book of Monsters. At least he'd had a good excuse to give Hagrid when he saw that the book was apparently tied shut. "Honestly, I thought it was a bit cold, Hagrid."

Harry's attention was caught now, as Hagrid began to show them the hidden limbs of the Dugbogs. It had finned paws and very sharp teeth which one attempted to bite into Hagrid's glove, but not getting much anywhere with that. It looked angry, and Hagrid put it back into the muddy crate, and it crawled up into a lump of grass that had been dug up. Hagrid had gone out to the small marsh in the Forbidden Forest, where these particular Dugbogs had come from.

He learned that the dead wood resembling creatures did more injury to humans; like their ankles as they passed. As Hagrid continued, he gave a small apologetic glance at Hermione when he mentioned that. A few had even slithered their way onto the grounds a few years back, when Professor Sprout had pots full of Mandrakes, the Dugbogs favorite food.

At the end of the lesson, Hagrid summed up his talk on Dugbogs with saying that any competent wizard should be able to cope with them, but it was preferable to wear gloves and tall boots if you're ever near a marsh. Harry had missed large parts of conversation in the class, as he was still sneaking looks at Draco. Once, he'd even caught Draco's eyes, and smiled slightly. The blond had looked a bit alarmed, but Harry thought it must have been because it was a bit blatant the way he'd done it.

When they heard the bell ring from the castle, they started to gather their books from the tables, and not even Hermione wanted to stay and risk getting a finger chomped on to help Hagrid with the Dugbogs. They waved goodbye and headed back to the castle. Harry had lingered behind his friends a bit, and they were already into a conversation with each other about something or other, but Harry didn't feel like talking. He'd listen, but he didn't want to take part.

Draco was a little way ahead of him, too, and when they all got to the steps of the castle, turned to his side letting a group of Slytherin girls go in front of him and Goyle. Harry watched him as he came up the steps, and Draco looked right back at him. Harry passed him, and carried on into the castle, but Draco was still thinking about him. He'd looked happier now than he had been in the past few days, and he was a bit unsure of how he'd actually deduced that. The only time he spent much time thinking about Potter was when he had his cock stuck up the Gryffindor's arse.

He went in the door himself, Crabbe and Goyle following behind at a small distance. Harry was going in the opposite direction as he was about to, and he felt a small pull to follow, but held back on that urge. He did have work to do, and he had no idea where Potter was off to; he could be going six floors away for all Draco knew. What he did know, though, was that he couldn't get the image of Harry smiling at him out of his head.

\---

After Care of Magical Creatures, they had another ten minutes of free time before the next class started, and they were on their way up to Gryffindor Tower to get their books for the next class. Ron and Hermione still had a bit of a lead on Harry, and he was glad for the privacy. He hadn't really noticed before how good Draco actually looked. Harry had to admit he liked the silver blond hair, a lot. He'd never seen a Muggle with hair naturally colored that light, and he supposed some might think it made Draco look a bit like a girl. In fact, he'd heard people say that before, but he didn't agree with them. It went perfectly well with his eyes and his sharp features, and was he really thinking about Draco's eyes?

Harry shook his head at himself before he got to the Fat Lady's portrait. "Bumblebee Tuna," Harry said to her, and she nodded and swung herself open, and slapped shut behind him. Harry felt a tug as he took his next steps past the doorway, or tried to, at least. He looked behind and saw that a drawstring from his bag had caught in the door. _Guess she's having a bad day_ , he thought, before he heard a shout from upstairs.

"IS THAT HARRY?!" Ron screamed down the stairs. Lavender and Parvati were already in the common room, and shook their heads at the yelled question. Harry could imagine Ron asking every time he heard the door open and shut, and just as easily could picture Lavender screaming right back at him. Harry grinned at them before walking to the stairs to the boys' dormitories.

He dropped his bag onto a chair as he went, and started up the stairs and went straight to the room he shared with Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus. He found Ron pacing around between their beds, staring at Harry's trunk, clearly wanting to rip the lid off and go through it. "What's up?" Harry asked, curious.

"Oh, I wanted to ask a big favor of you, mate," he said, putting on his best smile. Harry knew right then. That was something Ron had learned from Fred and George, even if he didn't want to admit it. That smile meant that he wanted a bit of help for some crazy idea.

"Yeah?" Harry asked, sitting down on his bed, and Ron sat down opposite him on his own.

"Could I borrow your Invisibility Cloak?" Ron asked, and sort of squished up his face, awaiting a "No."

Harry hadn't been expecting this, but then, what would he have been expecting? He hadn't had time to think about what Ron would want, but this seemed like a reasonable request. "What do you need it for?" Harry asked as he got up and went to his trunk. Ron grinned when Harry did this, and moved over to Harry's bed to watch as he drew the cloak out.

"To skip Divination. I'm going to tag along with Hermione to Muggle Studies." Harry was surprised at this, but he supposed if he had been listening to them more closely, he would have heard more of the specifics. He wouldn't have known Ron to rather listen to some teacher, than sit in the back of a room, albeit an incense smogged room, and have fun predicting ridiculous events, not even paying attention to the professor.

"Who teaches that again?" Harry asked as he dug through his bag, looking for the silvery material. "Professor Tast?"

"Yeah, she's almost as old as Binns," Ron said, looking gleefully at the cloak Harry had pulled out of his trunk.

Harry didn't want to picture an old woman that wrinkled, so he tried his best to wipe that image out of his mind. And what did his brain want to replace it with? Malfoy. "Okay," Harry said, handing the cloak to Ron. "But make sure to bring it back and don't rip it or anything."

Ron nodded and swore that he'd take good care of it, leaving Harry to get his Divination books. Oh, he hoped Harry would get his homework, as well. Professor Trelawney may be more of a quack than anything else, but Ron had always gotten good marks in her classes, if only for his originality. Apparently, his spine was going to twist up and in twenty years, he'd become a snail-like being and need to wear some sort of protective outer covering as a shell to keep his fragile, spongy body from being damaged.

Hermione was waiting with a big smile on her face when she saw Ron come out of the boys' stairwell. "Did he let you have it?" she whispered to him, and Ron nodded enthusiastically. "Great, let's go."

Ron hadn't a clue where the Muggle Studies classroom really was, and he hadn't even been on much of the west side of the castle at all, except if he'd gotten lost. Hermione knew the way, though, so they started on the trek from the north side, where Gryffindor Tower was located, to the west. They decided he should put the cloak on before they got into the corridor that contained the Muggle Studies room, so people wouldn't see him going into the room with Hermione, and then disappearing.

They made sure that no one was looking, and Ron swung the cloak around his shoulders, and made sure it was all the way down to cover his shoes. Hermione walked slowly so Ron's usual long strides wouldn't expose his feet. They came to the door to her classroom, and waited for others to pass through so they didn't try to walk closer to Hermione to get past the door, coincidently, trying to walk right in the space that Ron was actually occupying. Ron tried not to scuff his feet as he walked, and managed most of the time, and he almost stumbled twice, but managed to right himself before falling flat on his face, or tripping over the cloak and having it pulled right off.

Hermione sat down at her desk, and Ron stayed standing beside her. He poked a finger against her shoulder to let her know where he was, and he looked around the room as the rest of the students got settled. There were maps posted up on the walls, big outlines drawn on them showing unplottable areas set aside for various purposes, and various flyers that had been collected of memorable Muggle events. There was a long table along one wall, with strange devices Ron had barely remembered seeing before when he was ever in Muggle London.

One thing in particular caught his attention. A "toaster", claimed the label above it, and Ron followed the strange cord that led from its base over the edge of the table and nodded his head in a bit of false understanding. He now saw what a "plug" really was, even if not what purpose it served, and was a little more informed about his father's strange collection of the things. He vaguely heard the door shut, and then heard a shuffling across the floor, and turned, scanning his eyes over the back wall that was covered in a giant bookshelf, before his focus landed on an old woman.

Professor Tast. She didn't quite hobble, and she didn't have any sort of cane to help her walk, and Ron had the strange suspicion that she could very well run down the hall at an alarming speed if it was needed. As she started to dig in a folder for some papers, Ron looked for a place to set himself down. He couldn't pull out the chair of one of the spare desks at the back of the class, even if there was one right behind Hermione. It would look strange to see the chair moving of its own accord, and then see the cloak pulled up to reveal his feet as he sat down. No, the best thing he could do was to pull his limbs in.

Hermione had described to him how the classes usually were; no one was going to be walking around much, so Ron opted to simply sit cross legged on the floor beside his friend's desk. He sat himself down with minimal noise, and reached a hand out to press against Hermione's leg when he was settled. She jumped a bit and looked down at the empty space on the aisle where she presumed Ron was sitting, and she smiled. The elastic on her sock was pulled back and let go to make a small snap against her calf, and she felt like almost squirming at the content of Ron's hand, through the invisible silvery material of the cloak, brushing against her bare skin exposed past the hem of her skirt.

"Now," Professor Tast started, drawing some of the students out of whispered conversations with their neighbors. "Last session we were in the 'W's on our review for next week's test." Her voice was slightly gravelly, but sweet, and you felt like going into her office for tea and sweets. Though, when Hermione had been telling him about this (and she had been right in her description of the old teacher) she had ended up telling him about a story of Hansel and Gretel, and vaguely gave him the idea of this nice old lady at the head of the class turning into a hag and trying to eat them if they actually did accept a nice invitation to her office for tea. It was a scary thought, but there was something about her that made you think there was more than what you saw.

Getting off that oddly frightening train of thought, Ron turned his attention back to Professor Tast, and what she was starting to ramble about, reading off her notes that she was holding in front of her. She had taken a stool from in front of the long table at the side, with the toaster, and set it in front of her desk. Clambering on top of it, she sat, mumbling out loud, while some students took notes all the same.

"You're Muggle born, though, and you actually learn things in here?" Ron had whispered to her, looking around the room again, even though she couldn't see him do it. He would have asked her why she was here, but he already knew. She wanted to see the other side, the wizard's perspective, of events and happenings in the Muggle world.

"Well, I do know it," she whispered back, trying to scoot as low in her seat as she could go without being accused of slouching or not paying attention. She couldn't shout down at Ron, or seemingly, the floor to anyone else who was looking. And even though he was tall, his head still only came past the top of her desk, and there was still another foot and a half or so between them. She had paused, waiting for Professor Tast to start speaking again, having lost her place. "But it doesn't hurt to find out a bit more in depth, as I never got up to the higher grades in which I would have learned it in a Muggle school."

A girl that Ron knew was from Hufflepuff raised her hand, and Ron couldn't remember her name, but knew she was familiar from somewhere, other than being at the same school and only a table away at lunch, not to mention probably in at least two of his classes. She said something about armpits and Ron made a face. What on earth did they learn about Muggle armpits?

It turned out that there had been a type of movement that women had protested for the right to shave themselves of unwanted and unsightly hair in whatever place they felt they wanted to be smooth as a baby's bottom. While Ron agreed with that, not particularly liking _that_ type of hairy woman, he didn't think it should be such a big deal that some Muggle women make a big deal out of it. Going to such lengths as laser hair removal was ridiculous, Hermione had whispered to him. He had to wonder what a laser was, and he thought maybe he should have brought a pad of paper to write things down himself.

He had waited a few moments, but Hermione's attention wasn't on him, and she didn't hear him pssting at her, so he chose a more direct way to get her to listen to him. He reached out again, and brushed her leg. She looked down immediately, and Ron had to note that he'd felt a teeny bit of stubble on her legs, though never enough to panic about. Ron jerked his gaze away from her calf, though not before darting his eyes up to her half covered knee before remembering she couldn't see him anyway. "That's gross!" he whispered, a bit loudly, and a boy two desks ahead turned back for a second, but seeing nothing out of the ordinary, turned back. "You mean they didn't shave at all?"

Hermione shook her head slightly, and stuck out her tongue in a little gagging face. Ron grinned, and looked down at himself to make sure he was covered. He'd been making sure every few minutes, just in case he had shifted and a shoelace was showing or something. Ron was about to look back up at her and ask how much longer the class was (his arse was getting numb) but his eyes caught again on her bare knee, noticing that she'd shifted as well, and the gray fabric had ridden a bit higher on her leg. He grinned suddenly. She'd not even have a clue if he'd looked up her skirt or not.

He was about to clear his throat, but definitely thought better of it, and instead swallowed hard and looked resolutely ahead at Professor Tast, yet still his mind wasn't focused on the teacher. He was glad Hermione shaved, though, despite old Muggle habits. It would be a bit uncomfortable to have wiry hairs like men had on their legs. That'd be quite uncomfortable in bed, to rub up against a body as hairy as your own. Ron blushed, and tried to change to a more safe thought. He assumed she did her armpits, because that seemed positively awful. Sometimes he even contemplated shaving his own after a particularly sweaty Quidditch practice, he thought maybe if he didn't have the hair to collect the scent in, it wouldn't be so bad. Then maybe he could collapse on his bed without showering.

They moved on from recovering that subject, and moved onto equal rights for what jobs women could have, and how the Muggles had held back their women unjustly. Women in the wizarding world had already been able to become mediwitches, and even Aurors, centuries before the Muggles did. That was one thing that started wizards to thinking they should separate the two cultures before any more damage was done. With witches working in these jobs, Muggles were sure to notice. Therefore, a witch who had a medical license couldn't work in a Muggle inhabited area, which might have limited the amount of patients she could have treated due to word spreading that she was "rising up in rebellion and stealing the rightful place of men in the world", as Professor Tast mumbled from her papers.

"Any questions?" the elderly woman asked from her perch. A few hands were raised, and Professor Tast began to answer their questions, but Hermione didn't hear what they were, or their answer, as Ron had piped up beside her from the floor.

"Yes, Professor Tast, what exactly is the function of a rubber duck?" Ron whispered to Hermione from his seat between the aisles. The old teacher never made the walk up and down them, so it was safe for him to sit there for most of the class. Hermione almost snorted to keep her laughter inside. "Honest, my dad has asked Harry that more than ten times over the years, but Harry never gets to answer him before something interrupts."

"Miss...Granger?" Hermione abruptly stopped laughing, and reopened her eyes, which she'd shut in an effort to keep her amusement inside. It hadn't worked, and the insides of her eyelids only served as movie screens as the hilarious scene Ron had described tried to play itself out on them. "Do you have something to share with the class?"

"Yes," she said, and Ron gaped from under the cloak, and scraped his shoe along the floor, creating a shuffling sound as he turned to look at her. She wouldn't. "What _exactly_ is the function of a rubber duck?" The room was silent for a long moment before several students began laughing. He couldn't believe she could ask as calmly as she could, having been trying to stop uncontrollable laughter only the moment before she was spotted.

\---

"Oh, poor Professor Tast!" Hermione managed to get through her laughter when they were several corridors from Muggle Studies, on their way to the Great Hall. "She was absolutely flabbergasted!" The old woman had spluttered and then stopped, looking thoughtful before asking "What?" Hermione asked again, and the woman had to admit she had no idea what a rubber duck actually was. Ron had an arm around his stomach, it hurt from laughing so much, as they made their way to the hall. They still had their books, but they'd probably miss the start of dinner if they went all the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

They reached the Great Hall, and joined a group of students walking through the doors and parting to sit at their tables. "Harry's here already," Ron said, pointing out the dark-haired boy who was sorting some papers into two piles at the Gryffindor table. "Hey," Ron said when he sat down beside Harry; Hermione took a seat across from them and set her bag down under the bench. "Here. Safe and sound."

Ron bundled up the cloak and pushed it into Harry's hand. "Thanks," Harry said, stuffing it into his bag, which was in his lap. "So how was it?" he asked, handing one of his piles of paper to Ron, who grimaced at the words written on it. Divination homework; granted, he'd wanted Harry to get his, but he still didn't want to do it.

"It was great, you should see all the Muggle stuff in there. Toasters and everything!" Harry snorted at that. Ron made a face at him, and Harry laughed at it. He supposed Ron really had never seen a toaster before, and wondered for a second how Mrs. Weasley had made all that toast in the mornings without one. "I'd rather take Muggle Studies than Divination. What's that?" Ron asked, pointing at a wee jar full of some purple tinged liquid. He picked it up and tilted it, watching the purple stuff ooze to one side and then the other when he tipped it back.

"Trelawney predicted I'd develop a horrible rash in unseen places." Ron snickered, and Hermione reached across to smack his shoulder. Harry grinned and finished, "She said this would help make it go away."

"Well, you can tell her it worked wonders, since your rash is completely nonexistent," Hermione said. She had always been proud of having walked out of Divination, and only occasionally regretted it when Ron and Harry came back with silly stories of what they'd made up. The teachers began to file into the room through a side door, and the students began to quiet and wait for any announcements.

After another reminder about the Quidditch match tomorrow afternoon, and the resulting canceled classes, the golden plates appeared in front of them on the table, as well as all the food they could ever wish for. Hermione seemed quite happy that Ron had taken such an interest in one of her classes that was apart from them. Harry smiled at her and Ron as they continued to talk. He didn't really want to talk at the moment, not to mention he didn't have much to add to the conversation except help with the occasional explanation of some Muggle artifact when Hermione had trouble getting its purpose across to Ron.

It was interesting to listen to them, though, and they seemed content to let him. Even Neville got into the conversation for a few minutes, and a few others of their year who were also in Divination asked where Ron had been. They were stuck for a moment on what to say to that, not really wanting to confirm the long going rumor that Harry had an invisibility cloak. Hermione saved it, and said that she'd asked the teacher if Ron could sit in with her as he had a spare period. Any of them who knew Professor Tast knew she wouldn't mind, and most likely not even inquire as to whether Ron had a spare or not.

Since the class was with the Hufflepuffs, no one at the Gryffindor table could say that they never saw Ron there, but none had seen him in Divination. The conversation continued, but Harry had turned most of his attention back to his meal and started thinking about his homework and the Quidditch match tomorrow. Gryffindor would play the winner of the match the next weekend, and Harry couldn't wait. He looked up at Ron and Hermione and tried to listen, but his attention was sucked through the gap between numerous heads as he caught a glimpse of silver blond hair through the people swaying and moving. The Ravenclaw table and half of the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were in the way before he could see the usual place Draco normally sat.

With so many people, it was hard to see anything more than small fragments of people, but Harry watched, and soon saw most of Draco's face, though he wasn't looking Harry's way. Why would he be, though? He was probably talking to his friends about something that had nothing at all to do with Harry. Well, he didn't think Draco would be talking about him anyway, especially to the Slytherins. He had as much to lose as Harry did if anyone knew they'd been together and weren't in a fist fight or something like that.

The four rows of students obscured his way again, and Harry looked for a moment more, but didn't see Draco again. Ron shoved him, getting his attention, as Hermione had seen him staring off into space. "Huh?" he said when he focused on Hermione's concerned face.

"I said, what are you gawking at?" Ron said, shoving a mouthful of roast beef into his mouth. He chewed it carefully, minding not to open his mouth as he did so. Hermione had beat that habit out of him years ago.

"Nothing, just thinking about the match tomorrow. I wonder who we'll play next weekend," Harry said. It wasn't really a lie; he had been thinking about that, though it was more along the lines of, would he have to play against Draco? The conversation around him turned to Quidditch, but Harry was thankful it passed quickly, as he hadn't really wanted to talk about it. He wanted to play Slytherin, truthfully, just for the intense strategy it involved. He knew, though, that the rest of his team would prefer to play Hufflepuff, as it was more fun and they didn't have to watch their backs in case Crabbe or Goyle decided to ram into them. Being hit by a speeding Crabbe was not healthy.

Students began to leave the hall when they finished their supper, and departed through the open doors, off to their common rooms to complete homework, or off to a group meeting. Harry looked down at his plate. He'd actually eaten a lot, and that was a bit surprising to him before he thought about it further. He'd been too preoccupied to sit down and have a decent meal for the last few days. Ron was still eating as well, but Hermione had pushed her plate aside about five minutes ago, and it vanished, leaving her room to pull out a text and open it up. She and Ron were still in a deep conversation about something or other. Harry wasn't really paying attention anymore.

Harry put the last spoonful of his dessert into his mouth, and wished he could lean back and pat his full stomach without falling out of his seat. He'd probably end up whacking his head on the Hufflepuff bench behind him. He looked around the hall and was again surprised to see how many people had left in the last minute or two, but he looked at the clock, and it'd been half an hour since they'd come into the Great Hall. That was usually how long it took most people, who of course weren't engaged in conversation, too busy to eat.

He suddenly looked up and across the room at the Slytherin table, wondering if he'd have a clear view of Draco now. Harry frowned when he couldn't see the other boy. He looked back down at his bowl, and it vanished from sight, as one of the elves downstairs whisked it away, and a new bowl of pudding appeared a foot down the table from Harry. He thought about having some of it, smelling the warm wafts of chocolate it was giving off. His stomach was a bit tense, though, and he didn't want to make himself sick.

Harry was about to say something to Ron and Hermione, to tell them he was going back to the common room, when he caught sight of familiar blond hair, and almost grinned when he saw Draco slide into his line of sight at the Slytherin table. He must have been behind someone and just moved back into his spot, or went to grab some food or something from down the table. He didn't think Draco ate too much, being as skinny as he was, but he could have had a really good metabolism and eaten like a pig or something.

Draco looked up as he put a spoon in his mouth, and caught Harry's eyes. Merlin, he'd just shoved a spoon into his mouth, he must look like an idiot. He'd never felt like he was being watched before when he ate, but now that he knew Harry could watch him do just that, he didn't think he could finish any more dessert. Draco pulled the spoon out of his mouth and made a small show of licking the remaining pudding off the curved utensil, turning the tables and taking advantage of the dark-haired voyeur across the room.

Harry was clearly interested in the way his tongue slid up the edge of the spoon, and when Draco set it down, he had planned on getting up and swaggering out of the room, leaving Harry staring at the spot he'd been occupying. To his surprise, Harry seemed quite composed, and Draco frowned, not quite understanding the expression on Harry's face. But when Harry tipped his head towards the doors, and darted his eyes to them, and then back to Draco, looking at him purposefully, Draco didn't think he could mistake that gesture. He gave one slow, purposeful decline of his head in a nod, picking up his spoon again and toying with his pudding, not looking back up at Harry at all. He said something to Goyle; Harry only saw his lips move, and then watched Draco push his bowl aside (it disappeared) and then get up from the table and leave the room without a backwards glance.

Harry wondered for a moment whether Draco had understood him, but he decided to wait a minute before following, hoping that Draco wouldn't have gone far or hidden somewhere Harry wouldn't think to look. He told Ron and Hermione that he was going back to the common room, and that he'd show Ron what they were supposed to do for their Divination homework in full when they got back to Gryffindor Tower. They'd have fun making up their usual ridiculous predictions as they always did, and Ron laughed and agreed, saying he'd be along in a bit. Hermione agreed as well, shutting her book and saying they'd leave as soon as she finished what was left of her meal.

Harry nodded and said he'd see them later, and started out of the room. He made it past the doors; there was less than fifteen students in the hall, and Harry scanned through them, looking for Draco. He spotted the other boy at the notice board, feigning to read the pieces of parchment posted there, but Harry saw him glance his way out the corner of his eye. Harry watched, pretending to stop and adjust his bag, hefting it higher on his shoulder so that it wouldn't slip off, and waited for Draco to give him some type of signal. He did just that, with a tip of his head, and Harry followed his direction and walked right by the blond, on his way down a corridor that was very much in the opposite direction of Gryffindor Tower.

He kept walking and was wondering if Draco would actually follow and tell him where to go again, because he was starting into unfamiliar territory and didn't feel like getting lost. He didn't even have his map with him; it was up in his trunk. Draco waited until Harry was out of sight around a corner down the hall, then turned and went after him, slowly, as if he hadn't a care in the world and was just going for a stroll down the hall. If anyone asked, he'd tell them he was patrolling. That gave him an idea, and he grinned, speeding up his steps slightly to catch up with Harry.

Not even hearing another set of footsteps, Harry suddenly felt a hand close around his arm. He turned to see Draco, and almost smiled, but stopped before it came out, as he had no idea how Draco would react to him smiling at him. Draco smirked and turned, pulling Harry behind him. "We're almost there," he said, no longer whispering. Harry still didn't recognize where they were, and in fact it seemed to become less and less familiar as they hurried along the quiet corridor.

Draco pulled him sharply around a corner and opened a door to the right quickly. Harry barely saw a key being put back into Draco's pocket before he was jerked inside and the door shut and relocked behind them. Harry stepped into the room as he began to look around. There were large burgundy and beige rugs with numerous large, squashy armchairs and the occasional small couch placed in a crude sort of circle. There were cushions on every chair, making them look so very inviting, and Harry moved to sit down in one of the larger ones. "What is this place?"

Draco watched as Harry sat down heavily into one of the chairs, and walked towards him. "The Prefects' meeting room. There isn't a meeting for days, so no one will come in here. I've locked the door; the only way it can be opened is if I open it, or if it's someone outside who knows who's in here." Harry nodded and watched, slowly becoming nervous as Draco walked towards him. "And who would ever guess Draco Malfoy was about to shag Harry Potter?"

Harry just stared back at Draco as he squatted down onto his haunches in front of Harry's chair. "That is what you wanted, isn't it?" Draco asked him when he hadn't replied. Harry nodded, and before he realized what was going on, he felt smooth hands snaking up his thighs to rest on his crotch. Draco gave Harry's cock a little squeeze before moving to undo the fastenings of his pants and reach in to pull out Harry's now half hard length.

Draco smirked, pleased at the groan he elicited from the other boy as he continued stroking Harry to full hardness. Harry leaned his head back against the backrest of the chair, eyes closing at the pleasurable sensations running through his body as Draco pumped his hand up and down. Without prior warning, Draco took his hand away completely, which prompted Harry to open his eyes in confusion. His eyes settled on Draco's as the blond slowly began to stand, though leaning towards him as he did so.

Harry felt like his heart stopped and he held his breath, watching the other boy. He almost thought Draco was going to kiss him, and Harry gave his lips the barest of licks and closed his eyes for just a second, waiting, before opening them again. When he did, he frowned at Draco, who had bypassed his lips completely, now standing in front of the chair Harry was sitting in. Draco raised an eyebrow at him as he held out a hand. Harry looked at it and slowly lifted his own to meet it, but before he accomplished that, Draco moved his hand forward to grab Harry's impatiently.

He pulled Harry up out of the chair to stand in front of him, and quickly moved his hands to the fastenings of the dark-haired boy's trousers. Harry couldn't look down at what Draco was doing, because he knew he'd probably whack his forehead into Draco's. This was going well so far, and he really didn't want to ruin the mood by doing something stupid like that. Harry shivered slightly when his trousers dropped down his legs to pool at his feet, and Draco felt it as well. He smiled to himself and smoothed his fingers over Harry's hips, pushing the other boy's boxers down in the process.

Pressing his thighs together as best he could to let the elastic waistband go loose and join his trousers, Harry looked at Draco. The blond lifted his head and he could feel Harry's breath on his face, as they were only half a foot away from each other, and Draco wanted to get himself out as soon as possible and close that distance. He could have sworn he felt small goose bumps as he drifted his fingers up under Harry's shirt, lifting the hem of it as he went. Harry raised his arms above his head to help Draco as the blond slipped the shirt over his head and off his arms, finally flinging it somewhere off to the left.

Harry was almost in a complete daze by the happenings so far. He didn't have any complaints, but this certainly wasn't how he was expecting to finish off his night. This? This was a bonus, he thought. Usually Draco spared minimal time in divesting the two of them of their trousers and most times didn't bother with anything else as they shagged. Harry hadn't noticed he'd closed his eyes, but when he felt Draco's body heat move a step back, he opened them. Draco had already taken his shirt off, and was now unzipping his trousers, letting them drop, just as he had Harry's.

The blond didn't wear any underwear, and Harry's eyes ran down from the lightly muscled chest to the smooth abs, and then were stilled by the sight of Draco in all his glory. His own gave a twitch, and he realized this was the first time he'd seen the other boy's nudity in full. Draco stepped out from the legs of his trousers, and Harry felt a little smile pulling at his lips at the sight of Draco's feet, before Harry noticed that he must have had his shoes on still as well, and wondering when Draco had taken his own off. How long had he been staring? It must have been before he'd taken his trousers off, as Harry didn't see any shoes when Draco kicked his clothes aside.

Draco moved forward, recapturing the space between himself and Harry again, taking Harry by the wrist and leading him away from the chair. Harry wasn't prepared to be pulled, and almost fell from his feet being stuck in his shoes, tied together by the legs of his trousers. He tugged against Draco's hold and the blond stopped. Draco frowned as he watched Harry toe his shoes off, pressing his thumb absently into the pulse at Harry's wrist. Just as soon as Harry was finished, Draco pulled on his wrist, leading him into a larger space on the floor in the center of all the chairs.

Draco let go of him and moved to grab a couple cushions from a chair, and Harry took the time to shuck his socks off his feet and toss them aside. He'd always thought people looked funny wearing just socks, especially black ones. Draco turned back around and dropped the pillows on the floor and stepped almost flush to Harry. Harry stared blankly back at him, and couldn't help but squirm when Draco brushed against him. His eyes closed again, and he felt himself being pushed down. Draco had his hand over Harry's shoulder, firmly pushing Harry until he'd landed on his knees, facing Draco.

Draco watched as Harry opened his eyes again to look up at him. Draco took hold of himself and wondered if he should take advantage of Harry's position and make the brunette suck him off. He didn't think he'd feel as good of a release that way as he would have pounding out his orgasm into Harry, though. Draco looked back at Harry before walking around him and dropped down on the other cushion on the floor behind Harry. Harry let out a small gasp when he felt Draco's arms wind around his body, smoothing down his stomach to grip his hard-on.

Draco pressed his chest to Harry's back, and stroked Harry slowly as he nudged some hair out of the way with his nose to have better access to the other boy's ear. "Do you have some type of oil on you?" Draco whispered, snaking out his tongue to flick at the back of Harry's earlobe.

"Er," Harry said, quite eloquently, if he might say. He swallowed and blinked his eyes, forcing himself to think instead of just succumbing to the warm sensation spreading in tendrils through his body, starting at his cock. "Actually, I do," he finally got out, remembering the jar he'd gotten from Professor Trelawney. "It's in my bag." In their past experiences with each other, Draco had usually spat in his hand and got it over with, and not that Harry had a problem with proper lubrication, it was just a stark change, and he hadn't been expecting it.

He also hadn't been completely aware that his words would take the heat Draco's body pressed against him made, and move the blond to pull Harry's school bag towards them. He heard Draco rummaging around his bag until he'd found what he guessed was the oil, or the closest to oil they were going to get at the moment.

 _Why Potter has a bottle of purple oil in his bag, I'll never know,_ Draco thought, but he welcomed it all the same. He shook his head as he twisted the lid off the small jar and poured a generous amount of the purple substance into his hand.

It smelled like lilacs, or something flowery like that. He really wasn't sure, since he never really cared much for flowers or their smells. He set the bottle down and pressed his hand against Harry's lower back, pushing the boy down onto his hands, lifting his arse into the air. With the hand containing the puddle of oily flower essences, and he couldn't believe he'd just thought that, Draco ran it slowly down the crevice between Harry's cheeks.

He tried not to let the oil drip too much, and he ached to rock itself up and down that slick valley, but he held back. Draco circled Harry's arse with his index finger before finally slipping it in, smiling when he heard Harry moan. He quickly added a second, and then third finger to his quest, making sure to stretch them out as best he could. When Harry started to press back, wanting more, wanting them deeper, Draco knew he couldn't resist, and pulled them out.

Draco picked up the almost half empty jar and poured a bit more of the sweet smelling liquid into his palm. He then set the jar back down and began to liberally coat his straining length with the smooth oil. He shuffled forward on his knees, bringing himself closer to Harry's arse, put his clean hand onto Harry's hip, and used the other to guide in. He pushed forward, and pushed in, in one stroke.

"Ugh!" Harry ground out between gritted teeth when Draco was there at last. "Draco," he gasped out, and Draco took it as encouragement to begin with, but when he began to move out, Harry had another thing to say about it. "Don't."

Draco stilled, half to his goal, and asked, "What?" He didn't know if he'd heard Harry correctly, but hearing his name from the other boy's mouth was nice. It could very well have been the first time he'd ever said it out loud, to Draco, at least.

"It hurts," Harry said softly, not knowing how Draco would take his putting voice to his physical feelings. "Go slower," he ventured to say, hoping the blond wouldn't do just the opposite of his request. Draco stayed still, not really knowing what to think of what Harry had said. Harry was about to pull away from Draco, but the blond seemed to snap himself out of it and started moving again, this time as per Harry's request.

Harry breathed out slowly, wanting to wipe the initial pain away, and he turned his head a bit, but could only see Draco out of his peripheral vision. "I'm still a bit sore," he said quietly, wanting to give a bit of an explanation. He didn't want Draco to be completely slow and boring, because, in truth, he rather liked the roughhousing that Draco seemed fond of when he really got into it.

Draco closed his eyes and frowned slightly, trying to go slow enough, and he listened for any other protests Harry might have had. No more came, and he only heard the other boy's low pants as he slowly stroked back and forth. Finally, after sheathing himself all the way, he paused a moment, and rocked his hips slightly. He felt his bollocks rub against Harry's skin, and forced himself to stop so as not to climax too soon. Despite the times before this that they'd shagged, Harry was still as tight as the first time.

He moaned low in his throat at the, velvety, gently squeezing around him, egging him to just pound into the other boy. Once he'd steadied his breathing into a somewhat normal rhythm, Draco slowly pulled back halfway and slid back in, adding a bit of speed now. He almost missed the sharp gasp from the other boy as he hit Harry's prostate on that stroke, but he smiled to himself at the moan that followed afterwards.

Draco definitely wasn't going as fast as he usually did, or as hard as he wanted to right now, but he'd been asked to take it slow. If he had known he had hurt Harry previously, he would have been more careful, but this wasn't as bad as he'd thought it would be, to go slow. He could feel every little sensation better, the tight, gripping heat. Harry was feeling just the same as Draco, and he had to admit to himself that he missed the hard pace that they had become sort of accustomed to, and he had to ask for more. "Harder," Harry said, just loud enough for the blond to hear him.

“Yeah?” Draco asked, speeding up slightly, hands clutching tighter to Harry’s hips. Harry pressed back eagerly, and Draco angled himself to brush across that glorious spot in Harry.

Harry moaned and agreed, "Yes." And couldn't help but groan as Draco slowly drew back from him. He wanted to beg the blond boy to go harder and faster, to forget he'd ever said to go slow. Draco was all too happy to comply, and he'd pulled his hips all the way back with only a bit of him still sheathed. He stilled like that for just an excruciatingly long moment, before slamming in hard, his hips hitting with a sharp smack against Harry's arse.

"Aah!" Harry cried out, the loudest yet, and his head was spinning from the pleasure so that he was unprepared for the next heave forward. Draco pulled back again and pressed as hard as he could, repeating his previous actions, but this time, he completely knocked Harry off balance. The dark-haired boy was unsettled and pushed forward off his hands, landing with a thud on the cool wooden floor on his elbows.

Harry's head hung forward, letting his fringe fall over his eyes, his head almost touching the floor. He began to pant heavily, his mouth open, as Draco picked up the speed. After being shoved down into his current position, Harry had now steadied himself on his forearms, trying to physically keep himself in place at Draco's brutal force, threatening to push him forward each time. Each slap of the blond's hips against him made each movement all the more stimulating than the last.

Draco held on to Harry's hips, unconsciously massaging with his fingers, which was camouflaged as readjusting his grip. He opened his eyes, not even realizing he'd kept them shut since Harry had spoken, and watched the lean back in front of him. He could see a thin layer of sweat starting to glisten over the expanse of Harry's back, and Draco almost felt like smoothing his hands over it.

"Oh, god!" Harry cried out when a particularly rough push nudged hard against his prostate. He almost thought to tell Draco to stop again, to make sure no internal damage had been done. He felt almost disconnected from his lower body, and he wished he could wank off in time to Draco's rhythm.

His breathing was becoming as erratic as his pace, and Draco felt himself nearing his completion. Not wanting to peak before the other boy, Draco leaned forward a bit, having to slow the movement of his hips, and slid a hand along Harry's hip and across his thigh. Harry gasped when he felt Draco's hand close around him, and tried to drive forward into the tight fist. His attempt threw them both off any sort of pattern they'd gained, but they soon recovered.

Draco was pulling him off in time with his motions, and Harry found the strength to lift his head to stop a gob of welled up spit from slipping past his lips onto the floor in front of him. He swallowed, and gasped when his throat was opened up again, moaning out his appreciation of the dual pleasure he was receiving. The feeling of the hand on his groin, wanking him, and Draco pumping in and out, back and forth was becoming too much, and he knew it, feeling his orgasm become so close he wanted to scream.

He felt his muscles begin to tighten around Draco, and Harry loved the feeling of it almost as much as Draco did, and he let out a harsh moan as his length twitched and began to spurt. Draco added his own moan to Harry's as the tightening of the other boy's muscles squeezed them around Draco perfectly, milking his orgasm painfully hard from his body. His stomach tensed as he came, and he leaned forward, resting against Harry's back.

When their orgasms had subsided and they began to catch their breath, Harry didn't think he could hold them both up anymore, and he shifted slightly. Draco got the hint and lifted himself off Harry, and looked down at himself, still half hard and engulfed in Harry. He pulled back slowly, and watched the wrinkled skin stay stretched open, but the muscles tensed themselves in a crude manner like waving goodbye, and again, Draco couldn't believe he'd thought that.

His breath was still ragged, and Draco set a hand on the edge of a chair to steady himself as he stood. He didn't really want to go anywhere at the moment, so he opted for just collapsing into said chair, the one Harry had been occupying before they'd begun. Draco raised an amused eyebrow at the picture before him, of Harry still in the same position he'd left him in; arse up, face down. Though he'd let his head droop down again, and twined his fingers through his hair. Draco thought he looked rather good like that before he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, waiting for his breathing to even out.

Harry slowly felt his body begin to cool, as the sweat he'd generated started to dry. He pushed himself up shakily, and wondered for a second whether Draco had already left, before he saw the blond sitting in the chair to his side, eyes closed and chest still rising and falling rapidly. He unknowingly mimicked Draco's actions for standing up, and soon found he wasn't too stable to be walking around just yet, and he sat down on the edge of the chair beside Draco. It really was almost big enough for two, and Draco peeled open an eye to look at the messy hair on the back of Harry's head when he felt the edge of the chair dip.

Turning his head around to look at Draco, Harry found the other boy looking at him. If he had been unsure before of what kind of relationship this was turning out to be, he sure as hell didn't know now, either. Whatever questions showed in his eyes, Draco must have been ignoring them, because he didn't say anything.

After a moment, Draco lifted a hand and hooked it around Harry's upper arm and pulled him back. Harry let himself be moved, even scooting his arse back to sit more comfortably, though wincing as he did so as the rough corduroy of the cushion brushed against sensitive skin. Draco's shoulders were broader than his own, and Harry was surprised to feel that the blond's arm was still behind him, almost holding him as they sat there together.

Harry was laying almost half against Draco's chest, and he could feel the other boy's breathing return to normal. Draco wasn't entirely sure why he'd pulled Harry to him, but it seemed like the thing to do at the time, so he'd done it. It wasn't uncomfortable, either. He had seen the confused look on Harry's face, wondering what they were doing, and Draco had tried not to think about that particular issue himself lately.

He breathed in steadily, and let out a warm breath over Harry's shoulder, and Draco felt the other boy shift slightly. Draco tipped his head down, acting on impulse, and rubbed his cheek softly against Harry's skin before smoothing his lips over it to press a soundless kiss to Harry's shoulder. He didn't know why he did it, but he felt the urge to continue, opening his lips slightly and giving a slightly more wet kiss to the same spot, tasting the skin a little with his tongue.

When Harry felt Draco's lips against his shoulder, he was surprised, to say the least. He had no idea where it was coming from, but he decided he'd liked it. Draco pulled his head back and let it hit the backrest again, really trying not to think about what he was doing with Potter basically in his lap, both of them naked, and having just had the best shag of his life. Clearing his throat quickly, Draco slid out from behind Harry and stood up, crossing to where his trousers had been thrown and bending down to pick them up.

Harry fell back against the empty chair and stared after Draco for a moment before shifting to the edge of the chair. The bundle of clothes Draco picked up was not only his trousers, but Harry's as well, and he tossed the second pair over to Harry. He barely caught the garment with his hands rather than his head and Harry reached down one of the legs to retrieve his underwear.

He stood up slowly, feeling a lot more steady on his feet than when he'd first sat down, and began to put on his boxers. It was then he noticed just how sticky he was becoming back… there, and he really hoped he found a bathroom on the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

Draco was already dressed by the time Harry completed fastening his trousers, and he moved to grab his shirt off the floor. He pulled the sweater over his head and absently tried to flatten his hair as he watched the other boy. The blond wasn't paying him any attention, and Harry found himself presented with the usual aloofness that Draco most often displayed.

"Uhm," Harry began, and Draco was drawn away from tucking in his shirt tails to look expectantly at Harry. "Good luck at the match tomorrow."

Draco looked like that was something he hadn't been expecting at all, and slowly nodded, a slight frown creasing his forehead. He lifted a hand to brush back a few errant strands of his usually slick hair, smoothing out the frown as well. "Thanks," he said, and grabbed his robe from where he'd slung it over the arm of a chair. He slipped it on and grinned at Harry before opening the door and walking out of the room.

Harry looked back at him for a moment, gave a small smile in return, and then Draco was gone, the door still slightly ajar. Harry couldn't even hear footsteps in the hall, and he knew he wouldn't see Draco down the hall when he left the room. He leaned down, slowly, as he was a bit sore still, even if this was a much more pleasant experience, to grab the open jar, now half empty. He screwed the lid back onto it and set it back in his bag. He pulled the drawstrings on it and hefted it onto his shoulder.

He gave one final look at himself and decided he'd have to stop in a lavatory for sure, as soon as he found one on his way back. Harry wasn't even quite sure where he was, but he knew the general direction that Draco had led him in, so he'd just have to go in the general direction to find his way back to a more familiar hall. He left the room, shutting the door behind him, and started on his way back to the Great Hall. He didn't think he could find his way straight to Gryffindor Tower from where he was now. In fact, he wasn't even completely sure where he was at the moment. Perhaps he'd check on his map before he went to sleep.

On the other side of the Great Hall, Harry ducked into the bathroom that he and Draco had 'occupied' the other day. The rest of his trek back to Gryffindor Tower was uneventful, and when he finally reached the Fat Lady's portrait, he had to think for a minute before the password came back to him. "Billywig," Harry said to her, and she nodded and swung herself open.

\---


	3. 3

There weren't that many people in the common room, and Harry had to look at a clock above the fire place to find out what time it was. Nine twenty four, it read, and Harry was a bit shocked that he'd been gone so long. There was a group of students from several years playing wizard chess, and as he looked around, he saw his friends still down. They were watching him expectantly as he neared them, and he frowned. "What?"

He looked to Hermione, who had a concerned frown on her face, and looked at him suspiciously. He reached up to pat his hair down again, and realized it felt a little damp, and still messy. He hadn't wet it down when he stopped to clean himself up, and he realized it might not look like it was wetted with water, either. When she didn't say anything, but shook her head to indicate she had nothing to say at the moment, Harry moved to sit down beside Ron at the other side of the table.

Ron had looked up when Harry came in the room, and didn't say anything until Harry sat down beside him. "What took you so long?" he asked, setting aside a Transfiguration assignment that Harry noticed was supposed to be handed in earlier that day.

"Stopped in the library," Harry lied, averting his eyes and focusing on opening his bag which he'd set on the table. "Guess I lost track of time, huh?" he said, giving a weak chuckle, looking to Hermione. He hoped she would understand completely what he was using as an excuse, knowing that she'd actually done what he was pretending to have done many times in the past. Hermione didn't buy it for one second, and Harry saw she was obviously looking for any new book he'd signed out, and he clearly didn't have one.

Harry pulled the strings open on his bag and reached in to pull out his Divination homework, and Ron's as well. "Here's your work, Ron," Harry said, bringing the papers out, and hearing a small thud against the table as he did. He froze, staring at the jar as it rolled carelessly for a few inches before running out of momentum. It rocked back and forth for a moment, and all three of them stared at it.

Almost as if they'd planned it, in unison, Hermione and Ron both looked at Harry questioningly. Harry looked back at them and immediately blushed. He coughed, embarrassed, as he reached for the jar. He picked it up and shoved it hastily back into his bag, and began to shuffle the papers and sort out Ron's from his own.

Hermione really didn't think Trelawney was right, and that Harry suddenly developed a rash - in unseen places, indeed. What on earth would he have used the half of the purple oil for, then? Ron stared at the spot where the jar fell, and then at Harry's bag, then up to Harry, and then quickly back to stare blankly at his Transfiguration paper. Hermione cleared her throat barely audibly and was flipping pages in her book, feigning looking something up.

Harry glanced between the two of them, wondering what was going on. They seemed to be themselves until he'd come and sat down with them. What was going on? Ron had barely written half a sentence on his parchment, and Hermione had a few pairs of new hats she'd knitted for the house-elves sitting beside her in a pile. _Oh, no_ , Harry thought. Neither he nor Draco had spared any thought to clean up the mess they'd made. It must reek of sex, and clearly look like it as well. Harry's eyes widened, still staring at the little hats, and trying to fight back another blush. He hoped the elves wouldn't know who it was.

None of them spoke, and the tension between the three of them hovered ominously until Harry cleared his throat, much louder than Hermione did. "I'm gonna head off," Harry said, a bit uncomfortably. He felt like he was trying to escape. These were his friends, though, and he wasn't running away from them. How was he supposed to tell them where he'd really been? He shoved his own papers back into his bag, leaving the ones he'd picked out as Ron's on the table. He lifted his pack over his shoulder, saying goodnight to his friends as he left. Hermione and Ron looked at each other, and Ron shrugged. She sighed and they both started packing up their own books and going up to bed themselves.

\---

Hermione Granger wasn't quite a morning person, but she had her days. Today she'd woken up before the sun had barely poked its rim over the horizon. First, she'd simply rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Then, about an hour later, she woke up again, and this time decided to get out of bed. It was seven thirty by the time she'd finished in the bathroom, and she put her toiletries back in her trunk and grabbed her book bag.

She headed downstairs, intent on giving her homework another once over before going to class. She supposed she could do it during breakfast, but she did feel hungry, and wouldn't have time to go over both her Transfiguration homework and read the _Daily Prophet_ while trying to eat in the meantime. No, she'd do it now and read the news during breakfast. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, she made her way over to her and her friends' usual table. It was off to one of the corners of the large room, because she liked to have privacy and as quiet of a space as she could in a public room to do her homework.

It was a good place, she thought. Over the years and through the many adventures they'd been caught up in, they could always come to their table and talk about it. Hermione set her bag down on the bench beside her and pulled out her Transfiguration text book. She flipped it open to the page she'd stuck her homework in. Reaching over to her pile of knitting, she picked up her latest project. She'd progressed from socks and hats to starting to make half decent sweaters for the house-elves.

It must not have been five minutes later when Hermione looked up to see what was making such a racket on one of the stair wells. She chuckled when a very disheveled looking Ron stumbled off the bottom step of the boys' stairs. He groaned as he made his way over to the corner, scratching his head as he went. Ron was clearly not awake, and he had no idea why he'd actually gotten out of bed yet. He supposed it could have been because he couldn't get a few things out of his head, specifically things concerning his friends.

He'd been rather confused last night when Harry had come back to the common room. He really didn't look like he had been in the library and that was a bit of an unsettling thought for Ron. Hermione had looked about the same as him, though he knew she probably had a better hypothesis about Harry's appearance than Ron had. "Morning," he said, followed by a yawn, as he sat down across from Hermione.

"You look rested," she quipped, smiling at him as she continued her knitting. Ron would have rolled his eyes at her if he didn't think that would over exert them and slam them shut again, which was exactly what they wanted to do anyway. He brought a hand up to rub the sleep out of his eyes, and was glad that it woke him up some. He groaned again and took a deep breath before folding his arms over the table and unceremoniously thumping his head down on them.

He wished he could go back to bed, but he'd never get up in time for his first class if he did. Not to mention he didn't want to stir up any more thoughts like the ones that had permeated his dreams. The other day when he and Hermione had been in the library, their brief conversation had really stuck with him. Really, how could you tell if someone was a virgin or not? She wouldn't have been trying to tell him something. Would she?

He heard the knitting needles clink softly against each other in an almost hypnotizing rhythm, trying to lull him back to sleep. Then they'd stop, a page would be shuffled, and they'd resume. When they stopped and didn't pick up again, Ron frowned into his arm.

"Ron," she started, looking down at her knitting. Ron lifted his head from its rest on his forearms and looked at her, glad for the distraction, and hopefully it'd wake him up a bit more before breakfast. She knew he was looking at her now, wondering what she was about to say, and she made herself look up and meet his eyes. "There's something I have to tell you."

Ron looked back at her, suddenly not as sleepy as he thought. In his experience, when someone used those words, it was bound to not be good. A silence grew between them as Ron waited for her to speak. A few muffled thumps from above barely cut into the quiet, and Ron dimly recalled seeing Seamus teetering very near the edge of his bed. He began to worry if something was wrong, if Hermione really had something serious to tell him.

He was about to ask her if she was okay when she finally spoke. "I'm not a virgin."

Ron's lower lip drooped open, and he stared back at her, almost not thinking he'd heard her. She looked as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders, but as the silence returned, seemingly so did the weight. "Okay," Ron said. He wanted to smack himself on the head when he heard his own voice saying such a stupid thing in response. Was that the best he could think of?

He supposed it was when he'd never have guessed that was what she was about to say. He would have thought she would say something like, 'Oh, Ron, do you think I got a P on that Transfiguration quiz?'. Or, maybe, 'I hope the elves like these colors'. But, no; she'd answered the exact question he was trying to get his mind to stop thinking about. Hermione sighed and shifted uncomfortably, and he realized he'd simply been staring off into space for a moment. "Uhm," Ron scrambled for something else to say. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Hermione nodded and took a steadying breath. "It wasn't bad, or anything like that," she began, not wanting Ron to jump to conclusions. She knew that Ron had been jealous of her relationship with Viktor, and she had never told them why they'd broken up. Hermione knew Ron well enough to know he'd think this might have been a reason they broke up, if Viktor had hurt her in any way. "It was in Hogsmeade, last year. A few months before we broke up during the summer, we... had a moment, and it just happened."

Ron listened, a little well of anger towards Viktor Krum started to form inside of his chest, but he wanted to let Hermione tell him what happened. He needed to know whether or not he had to go kick some Bulgarian butt. First, he'd have to find out where Bulgaria was, though. "I guess I don't really have much to say about our sexual experience, but more so on why we broke up." She sighed, "I know it's silly, but I suppose I never thought I'd break up with someone I'd slept with. You know, that I'd sleep with someone, and they'd be my first and last type deal.

"I feel bad that there wasn't a strong enough foundation for us to work on as a couple. We didn't have much in common, not to mention being from different countries. He was always more into his work, playing professional Quidditch. He never really spared much time to pay enough attention to me. Not that I didn't want him to partake in something he enjoyed, but it just got to be too much. We were too different, and I think that when we had sex, it was a last attempt to see if the relationship was going to work, or not."

She never thought Ron or Harry would make fun of her and stop being her friend if she told them, but she didn't think it right to overemphasize her sexual experience. Mentioning it in a conversation that led up to it was one thing, but just coming over right after and telling them all about it was another. In some ways, this had been building up between them, and she thought they had a right to know; they were her best friends after all.

"I would have told you all of this before now, but..." Hermione sighed. Men had it a lot easier than women when it came to confessing they'd slept with someone. That was something universal between Muggles and wizards both; she'd have to bring that up in Muggle Studies some day. Of course, she didn't want people speculating about who she might have slept with to think of this subject. Maybe if she was in another relationship, with someone she really cared about, then she wouldn't mind if people thought what they wanted to think. "You don't think I'm shallow, do you?" she asked, looking at him hopefully.

"No!" Ron said quickly. "I mean, just because you didn't share the same interests that doesn't make you shallow. It just means," he paused, trying to think of how to proceed. He waved his hand a bit, trying to force the right words out of his mouth. "That maybe it was just boring for you. You can't expect to stay with someone who bores you, right?"

Hermione shrugged, not looking too convinced. "I do like sitting and having a chat, but I'm just not that interested in professional Quidditch." Hermione sighed. She did like Quidditch, but her interest lied mainly in simply watching the game, not debating its strategy. There was also only so many matches she could watch, but she didn't want to tell Ron that. His mind might boggle over how someone couldn't watch Quidditch day in, day out. He'd probably say she was no fun. "I'm dull," she said quietly, looking down at her knitting still in her lap.

Ron didn't know what else he could say to reassure her that she wasn't boring. He knew she would be trying to tell herself that the reason why she broke up with Viktor was because she thought she was boring. With Krum's accent, Ron didn't think he could listen to him talk about anything, even Quidditch. "Hermione!" Ron said, aghast, making her look a bit alarmed. "You're not dull! How many times have you up and ran around with me and Harry? That was great fun." She perked up a bit at that, and one side of her lips twitched into half a smile.

"I wouldn't want someone like Cho," he continued. "Harry has complained enough times about that whole deal to turn me off that kind of girl. Too emotional." Ron shook his head, looking a bit disgusted. Hermione nodded, knowing full well that Ron wasn't the mushy romantic type; though he had his moments. "Or someone that couldn't bend a few rules, or who wasn't up for a spot of adventure. I'd want someone like... like you!" He couldn't believe he'd said that, but he had been on a roll. Hermione looked up at him, and he wished he knew what she was thinking. He felt his cheeks start to flush, and he looked away for a moment, trying to will the blush away.

"Thanks, Ron," she smiled, a whole smile this time. "Maybe you're right," she admitted. She wasn't quite sure why Viktor had asked her out to begin with, but looking back, they really weren't suited for each other. She should look for someone that she shared more interests with, someone she could share things with. Someone like Ron.

She looked at the boy across from her. They already knew they had lots of things in common, yet still many things that were unique to each of them. Hermione accepted that Ron had more of an interest in sports and chess than she did, and Ron felt the same way about Hermione and her books upon mounds of books she claimed as light reading. Even if he could never do it himself, and sometimes teased her about it, he wouldn't want her to change a thing.

Ron was still trying to sort out all the newfound information. Classes were by far worse for trying to remember things than this was, though this had the advantage of being much more important than Transfiguration. He didn't feel right about the whole idea of Hermione having slept with Krum, but he supposed she would have had sex sometime. She couldn't wait for him forever, could she? The moment that thought dawned on him, he knew his eyes widened.

How could he have missed this? He felt almost cheated out of something he'd wanted for a long time, only to have it snatched away by someone else. He had always thought he'd be her first, and that was enough to make him a little peeved. There was no way he could be mad at her for it, though. She had a life and could make her own decisions. Ron supposed he did sort of have his head up his arse when it came to seeing how much of a pretty girl Hermione was.

Another lull between them, though it wasn't so silent, as more people were starting to get up and at them. Hermione had done a few more stitches into the sweater as she thought about things, and she stopped, looking back up to Ron. He looked like he was staring at a particularly interesting knot in the smooth wooden surface of the table, but she knew he was thinking. Ron, feeling her eyes on him, looked up to meet them. They were still as their eyes met, and Hermione almost forgot what she was going to say.

"There's a Hogsmeade weekend coming up," Hermione said quickly, not quite able to keep her eyes on Ron's. She stuck her knitting needles through the ball of yarn she was working off, and set the half finished sweater on the table. "Do you, uhm," she coughed, "want to go?"

Ron smiled automatically, not able to help himself. He knew she wasn't just asking if he was going to go because he could if he wanted to; she was asking him to go _with_ her. "Sure." There was no other answer to that, he thought. He almost couldn't believe it. He'd been so blind to how wonderful a girl Hermione was, his best friend! Ron had had a little crush on her since about fourth year, but he'd never given much thought to it until lately.

Any thoughts along these lines in the previous years had never gone away, only backed off into his mind and strengthened themselves. He could never say he didn't have feelings for Hermione now, and he was almost sure she felt the same way. Ron almost wanted to smack himself when he realized that she had probably known he liked her long before he was ready to acknowledge it. All the times she could have ditched him, and she didn't. She likes me, Ron thought, and found that there was no way to make himself smile any bigger than he was already.

"Great." Hermione brushed some hair behind her ear and smiled at Ron before moving to put her books back into her bag.

"Great," he repeated, still smiling. He watched her fasten the ties on her bag before realizing that he needed to grab his books as well. He hadn't been able to get much done on them last night, but oh well. He never wanted to take advantage of Hermione, but her marks were so much better than his; since they were best friends, she had to let him copy a little, right?

There was more movement on the stairs, and they looked around the room to see that a few more people had come down already. "Good Morning, Lavender," Hermione called out happily to her room mate. Lavender waved and covered a yawn with the back of her hand, smiling back at Hermione. Ron couldn't wipe the smile off his face, and was glad he didn't have to force it away during Potions. Snape would be sure to call him a cheeky little prat if he came in grinning like he was now, but Ron didn't have to worry about Snape until Monday, due to their afternoon classes being cancelled for Quidditch.

\---

It wasn't long before Harry had come downstairs, looking rumpled but ready to start the day. Ron and Harry gathered their books and Hermione waited for them at the portrait door. The walk down to the Great Hall was quiet. Ron and Hermione were on either side of Harry, which he thought was a bit odd. Actually, he didn't feel it was odd, just that today it seemed that way. Most days, Ron was in the center. They almost seemed to be using Harry as a buffer zone; Harry shook his head at the thought, thinking it silly.

They entered the Hall to see most students there already, and they took their seats, waiting for any announcements. Dumbledore wasn't in his seat when Harry looked to the staff table across the head of the room. He saw the Headmaster near the end of the long table speaking to Madam Hooch, the Quidditch coach. Harry didn't have a good feeling about that, and when others saw who the professor was speaking to, they seemed to feel the same way.

"Excuse me. Pardon me," Dumbledore said as he scooted his way behind the rest of the teachers to make his way back to his seat. "Sorry about that," he said to Snape as he walked by the Potions master. Dumbledore's wiry beard had gotten caught in the back of Snape's hair as the old wizard brushed by him. Snape uttered something quietly to the Headmaster and brought a hand up to hastily smooth the back of his hair down; not that it did much good anyway, it was still a greasy hunk of hair, either way.

"May I have your attention," Dumbledore said, raising a hand to gather the students' attention and quiet their conversations. "Thank you." He smiled when he'd managed to quiet all but a few whispered conversations. "As you all know, the first Quidditch match of the season at Hogwarts is scheduled for this afternoon, subsequently canceling classes." There were a few cheers from the students who were looking forward to an early end to classes before the days off they had over the weekend.

"I regret to inform you that the match will be postponed until Saturday. Enjoy your breakfast, and may you do well in all your studies this day." Dumbledore sat down in his seat and watched happily as food began to appear on all of the tables in the Hall.

A majority of students were almost too upset to eat at the moment, though. How could they postpone the match? Why did it have to be put off? Those were a couple of the common questions heard all over the Hall as breakfast began. Needless to say they weren't going to get any answers to those questions from other students. They'd have to wait until a class began before someone could ask. The most disappointing thing for the trio of Gryffindors was the fact that they now had a reinstated Potions class that afternoon.

Ron groaned and put his head in his hands, mumbling curses to himself. He hadn't done his Potions homework, thinking that he'd have until Monday before it had to be handed in. They were sure that Snape would expect them to have it done already. Harry patted his friend on the back, trying to cheer him up. Ron just looked at him and Harry shrugged. Yeah, he supposed there wasn't much a person could do to make a good Potions lesson, short of firing Snape, at least.

When Harry was done piling some eggs and bacon onto his plate, he tried to look through the heads across the Hall to the Slytherin table. He couldn't see Draco. Leaning over to grab a piece of toast from a plate two seats down, he still couldn't see the blond. Harry frowned into his orange juice as he took a drink. He didn't think Draco would be pleased at all at having the match postponed. Harry knew one good thing about Potions, though; he'd get to see Draco, even if he had to put up with Snape.

When they'd all finished breakfast, Hermione herded them off to Transfiguration. She wanted to ask Professor McGonagall a question before class started, and she was in a hurry. Ron and Harry lagged behind a bit as they strode down the Hall behind Hermione, but they finally reached their classroom.

"Good morning, Professor McGonagall," Harry and Ron chimed in when they entered the room. Their teacher smiled at them and nodded, turning her attention back to Hermione, who was standing beside her desk talking quietly. Ron proceeded to the usual table he and Harry sat at, the second from the front on the left side. Ron frowned when he set his books in front of him and couldn't see Harry anywhere.

He leaned to the side of his desk, looking down around, and he saw Harry kneeled down, retying a shoe lace. When Harry stood up, Hermione had started over to them, and Ron watched as both of his friends sat down at the table in front of him. His frown deepened, and he felt a pang of jealousy. Usually, Harry sat with Ron, and one of the girls from their year sat beside Hermione. He exhaled slowly, calming himself. He knew it was alright. Harry and Hermione were friends, they could talk and do projects together in class without him.

Ron did have to note that Harry didn't seem to be interested in Hermione in that kind of way, though. Come to think of it, he thought, he hadn't really seen Harry have that much interest in any girl. After Cho, who Harry's interest in had waned early on, the brunet boy had always shied away from girls, except Hermione, that is. He'd always told Ron that he never felt right hanging out with Cho or kissing her.

Everyone had filed into the room and were now seated, and it was still a moment before the bell rang to signal the start of their first class. The atmosphere in the room was dull and almost glum. It felt like it would be a long day, and that thought was universal among the students. No one seemed to be looking forward to this afternoon, except in the respect that it was closer to the end of the day. The sooner they got it over with, the sooner they could go to bed and start over tomorrow.

There was an odd number of students in their Transfiguration class. That meant that one pair would be a trio, and Harry, Hermione and Ron never had any complaints about being that group. Sometimes they did feel bad about leaving the third best friend out of a partnership in class when the professor chose the groups.

Hermione was glad to see that Harry seemed more cheerful today than he had in the past week. She smiled across the table at Harry, and often turned back to do the same to Ron, though she kept averting her eyes quickly when she did so. McGonagall got up from her desk, and readjusted her glasses on her nose. "Today," she began, "we are going to continue our discussions on Animagi. You've all got your partners from the previous lesson. You may switch seats to be seated with your partners now."

Several chairs were pushed back, and people stood and shuffled around to find their new seats. Ron picked his up and brought it to Hermione and Harry's table. "Please write down your more unique theories on the topic of 'Do we choose the animals inside of us?' and hand it in to me at the end of class. You may begin."

A buzz of conversation started around the room and McGonagall went back to her desk and continued working on grading the stack of parchments that was nearing a foot in height. She looked up and scanned the room occasionally, but all the students seemed to be behaving well, and she was soon immersed in her work.

The three Gryffindors had thought of more rare animals, even magical animals, that a person could transform into. Hermione brought up a unicorn. If someone was a unicorn Animagus, would they have traces of silver blood in their human form before they became an Animagus? Or not have silver blood at all, even when in unicorn form? Would they develop a different type of blood after they'd completed their training to become a unicorn Animagi? Then came the question of the topic. Could someone choose to become a unicorn, perhaps for the purpose of immortality that came with the blood of a traditional unicorn?

Might they feel the threat of being hunted and possibly killed for their blood? Even if it was a crime punishable by death, there had been many cases of unicorn slaying, even though it was extremely difficult to catch one of these creatures. Hermione was proud of what the boys contributed to their paper, and she wrote it all down neatly, handing the paper over to each of them in turn to sign their name on it. A few minutes later, McGonagall collected their papers and picked out several that were more interesting than the rest.

Hermione preened when theirs was one of the ones selected, and they continued their discussion with their professor one on one, with the rest of the class as audience. It turned into a lengthy debate on several points, and before they knew it, the bell rang to signal the end of that period. Since they had another Transfiguration class, they were quite content to keep going on their debate, though stopping for a brief bathroom break.

After double Transfiguration and lunch, the Gryffindors had Charms. It was an interesting lesson, even if they had only spent most of it reading out of their texts, but it was an interesting chapter. When they were all finished, they got to try out some of the charms they'd read about. After they'd all successfully managed their chosen spells, they were rewarded with the rest of the class to practise previously learned charms. The class went by quickly, and soon they were heading down the Hall towards the stairs.

Most people seemed a bit cheerier now that the day was half over, but some weren't as enthusiastic. There was still the matter of getting through Potions with Snape, who they'd heard was equally ticked off about having to teach a class that afternoon as much as the students were for having to attend it. Harry could hear Hermione going over the finer points that McGonagall had described about Animagi with Ron, who hadn't seemed to understand it all this morning. He was a few steps ahead of them down the stairs, and he waited for them when he came to the first floor of the castle. "Thanks," Ron said, but he seemed quite distracted at what Hermione was saying to really talk to Harry. Hermione smiled at him, and they proceeded down the next flight of stairs that led down to the dungeons.

Harry was glad that Hermione had stopped watching him like a hawk. He could just tell she wanted to ask him where he went every time he'd left her presence, though minus silly things like going to the loo. Her suspicion had dwindled, but Harry wasn't keen to bump it up a notch again. How could he tell them where he'd been disappearing to? Honestly, he never thought he'd been gone for as long as he had been when he was with Draco, but he supposed he was.

He wondered what his friends had been doing in that time. Harry wasn't proud of the few times he'd basically blown off his friends to spend time with Draco, and he wished he could apologize. Again, he'd need to tell them where he'd been first, since he couldn't apologize another time for being in the kitchens for three quarters of an hour.

He really didn't want to hear their predictable speech about the evils of Malfoys. Even though Draco's father could uphold that point, Harry didn't believe it was true for Draco. Of course, he didn't really know the boy well, and for all of his previous years in school his relations with the blond were frankly horrible. Harry sighed to himself as they neared the Potions lab. Professor Flitwick had let them out early, knowing how long of a trek it was to get from the third floor down to the dungeons.

A lot of students stifled grins at that. For Professor Flitwick's size, they had to sympathize with him. It really was a job to get down all those stairs, let alone do it in ten minutes in corridors full of students going every which way. Speaking of Malfoys, there goes one now. Harry watched the blond head bobbing through the crowded Hall in front of the Potions lab. Draco seemed preoccupied, Harry noted, and he decided just to get into class and perhaps try to catch the Slytherin's eye later on.

\---

Snape leaned forward in his chair, one arm lying on the desk and the other swirling the contents of a small bottle. He had added the finishing touches this morning to his potion to find out who had been with Potter, and he had set things aside for Monday. This was the one interesting thing about having him dragged back to teaching his afternoon classes. It had taken him time to find the exact spells and enchantments to use on his potion to find out who Potter's accomplice was in desecrating his desk.

It was a complicated spell, since it had to be used in conjunction with a potion, and not surprisingly, the 'recipe' for it could only be found under lock and key in the Restricted Section of the library. When he found out abruptly this morning he'd be working this afternoon, he found a small amount of joy in seeing his potion working when Potter walked through the door to his lab.

Snape had rushed to apply the potion to his doorway before any students came down after lunch. He needed a continual ring of the potion for the person to walk through, so he'd brushed it around the stones and left it to dry, hoping the red would fade and not look too suspicious. He'd had a class before the Seventh Years were due in the dungeons, but he wouldn't be shown anyone's ungodly insides until he'd downed some of the potion himself.

He looked up to the doorway when he heard distant voices; students were making their way closer to the lab. Quickly, Snape pulled the stopper out of the bottle in his hands and, bringing the neck to his lips, tipped it up and downed some of the potion. He pursed his lips as the sour taste coated his mouth and began to slide down his throat as he swallowed. He shook his head, trying to focus on something other than the foul taste of the concoction.

He managed not to stick his tongue out in disgust, settling for scraping it along his teeth inside of his mouth. Snape stood and crossed to the cabinet to the side of his desk and unlocked one of the doors. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of Ogded's Old Firewhisky, and summoning his coffee mug he poured a generous amount into the mug. It wouldn't do to have his nosy students seeing what he was really drinking, now would it?

Taking a good swig of the whiskey, he swallowed and moved back to his desk, setting the cup down. He sat back in his seat and awaited the effects of the potion. It didn't take long, and he jerked a hand up to cover his eyes suddenly as a sharp stab of pain washed behind them. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before opening them, bearing the pain. If he missed Potter walking through the door, he'd have to make an excuse for the little urchin to stand up during class so Snape could have a good view.

Snape grit his teeth at the dull thumping pain at his temples, and he was glad the potion would only be in effect for a short while, as he'd not taken a large amount of it himself. It would be about fifteen minutes, give or take, before the effects on him would begin to wear off. Ah, Snape thought as he tried to smirk to himself with his teeth together so tightly, my students are here.

He did manage that smirk, and added a dark look to at the students when they began to backlog his doorway upon seeing their Potions Master already seated at his desk. More often than not, Snape was the last person to class before it began, waiting until all of his charges were safely seated behind their desks. They took a moment to recover, but soon were walking briskly to their seats. Snape would have bet they'd try to run the ridiculously short distance if they didn't think they'd be punished for running in a classroom.

The rest of the students hurried through, some not even noticing Snape's early presence, the others wondering why on earth he was there. Meanwhile, Snape was gazing curiously at each bunch of students who came through the door. It took a moment, but soon there was a glow about each person's stomach, and it spread to glow in a large ring, the inside of the circle having given the illusion of their skin having faded to reveal their insides. Snape grimaced at the grotesque inner body scenery, and he tried to focus on the smaller, slightly glowing orbs inside of each person's body.

He could see the normal appearance of each student, aside from their stomach, and he tried not to stare in disbelief at some that his eyes landed on. Snape had no idea that the potion would allow him to see _every_ student. He'd assumed it would be only Potter, since that's whose DNA was in the potion. Come to think of it, the potion hadn't actually specified that it would only show one person... None the less, it seemed to be working quite well, and the pain was beginning to subside.

Dear, Merlin, Snape thought, who would have thought one could do that with a goat? He cast a wary glance at Seamus Finnigan, who had taken his seat beside his friend and roommate, Dean Thomas. Snape looked back to the doorway to see a more familiar face; that of Pansy Parkinson. She seemed too busy chatting with Millicent Bulstrode to notice that Snape was already in the room. Snape brought a hand up to cover his eyes, having been flashed with a bright spot of pain behind them.

"Good lord," he mumbled to himself. Pansy turned to glance at her friend before she caught sight of Snape. She blinked, wondering if he was actually there or she was just seeing things in the dark. Pansy watched as Snape shook his head in his hand, and the young Slytherin turned back to Millicent and shrugged, following the other girl to their table near the far wall.

Sweet Morgana, how can the body stand the induction of that much semen? Snape spared a glance, raising his head from his hand and looking in the direction of the Slytherin girls. He gave a small sigh of relief when he found that the table blocked her innards when she was seated. He blinked his eyes to clear away the small sun spots he was still seeing from the bright flash.

The potion allowed him to see the sexual auras of not only the person he was looking at, but also those of whomever had been intimate with said person. And not only did it let him see the different swirls of glowing color of each person, it also identified who each color swirl belonged to. It showed the first initial and last name of the originator, and Snape shook his head again. Pansy had not just her own aura showing, but those of at least fifteen others as well. Snape was undoubtedly happy that the potion only showed the last two weeks, or he'd have gone permanently blind on sight of the pretty girl.

He made a mental note to tell Madam Pomfrey to speak to Ms. Parkinson on the pros of safe sex. He really didn't think he could deal with miniature Pansies running around underfoot. At least, not while the mother was still in school. Snape took a drink from his coffee mug and decided to look in another direction. Through the doorway came a familiar face, and Snape felt like groaning in irritation for a moment before his eyes were drawn to the glowing insides of the student. Snape took another drink, and quickly ended up spitting the liquor back into his cup. His mouth gaped open slightly, though behind the mug, as he watched Neville Longbottom make his way to his seat.

Snape had to admit the boy had begun to look better as he grew older, and he never doubted that someone would eventually sleep with the boy, but the one person who seemingly had was entirely unexpected. It was none other then someone from his own House, actually: Zabini, B. His head automatically turned to regard Blaise, sitting with Pucey on the Slytherin side of the room. He pursed his lips, a thoughtful look on his face, and thought perhaps he might have underestimated the clumsy Gryffindor.

As he watched Neville walk down the aisle to his seat, Neville stumbled over Dean's bag, and landed close to flat on his face. "Well, maybe not," Snape said to himself, taking another drink. Snape was starting to grow anxious and almost bored as he waited for the one person he actually had stock in learning the slightest about their sexual escapades to come walking into his room. He'd given up on being surprised, amused or disgusted at the other students who'd already settled into their seats.

After the first few shocking revelations, he'd just rolled his eyes to himself. It was becoming a drag just sitting there waiting for his students, and he remembered why he was usually the last to enter the classroom. Although this was much more than he ever wanted to know about his students; thank heaven it didn't provide him with all the sickening details. If that had been the case, Severus might have been forced to take his own life.

It was almost another three minutes before the one person he wanted to see came ambling into his room with his two tag-alongs bringing up the rear. Snape zeroed his attention on Potter, all but dying to find out who had dared to shag the boy over his desk. He frowned as someone walked in front of Harry, obscuring his view, but he soon couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the labeled pale green glow: Malfoy, D. As much as Snape had almost prepared himself for the most unlikely pair, his jaw still dropped open, and without his knowledge, at that.

He had been partially thinking it would have been Weasley, since they'd been friends for seven years, but not his supposed enemy. Snape stared almost angrily, at the two boys making their way to their table at the front of the class. Ron caught sight of their professor staring at them oddly, and elbowed Harry lightly in the ribs to get his attention. "Oi, what's with Snape?" he whispered.

Harry winced as Ron gave him a sharp jab, and he brought up a hand to rub his abused rib. "I'm not sure, Ron, but he's staring at us." Ron risked another glance at Snape, who was still watching them with a frown. The boys took their seats, Hermione sitting at the table behind them with Neville, and waited for their class to start.

"Catching flies, Professor Snape?" came an amused drawl, which indeed drew Severus out of his thoughts to glare at the student who had dared to mock him. He shut his mouth casually before raising an eyebrow at Draco, daring him to say anything else.

"Malfoy," Severus acknowledged in a warning tone as he stood from his desk, still in too much of a surprised state to really reprimand the Slytherin. Harry looked over to the other side of the room, straight at Draco, but the blond was too busy chuckling with Goyle to pay any attention to Harry. He felt a bit left out, but he started to undo the strings holding his bag closed.

Snape stepped down from the raised area his office was situated in, and made his way to stand in front of the center aisle between the Slytherins' and Gryffindors' tables. Most of the students' abdomens were still obscured by the desks, which Snape was thankful for. He wasn't sure if he could manage to teach a very good class with all the bright, shiny, disgusting distractions.

Severus grimaced and looked around his classroom, hands clasped behind his back. He looked back to Potter, who was merely three feet away from him, and couldn't help but tilt his head slightly to get a better look. What he saw almost amazed him, but he'd spent many years training himself not to be surprised about even the most spectacular things. Not only were there two auras inside the boy, one belonging to himself, and the other that of Malfoy, but there was a third. It seemed attached to both of the boys', and its color was a blur between the pale green of Malfoy's and the vibrant red of Potter's.

It looked rather sickening, like a glowing ball of vomit lodged in the center of blood and guts inside of Potter, but that wasn't what was so odd about it. Normally, the aura of a person would disappear after a few days, unless their semen was continuously deposited on an almost daily basis. But... no. It couldn't be.

The third aura was not only intertwined with the other two, but also, the name showing read 'Unknown'. That couldn't be possible. The spell mixed with the potion he had used was able to name anyone or anything in the world, Muggle or Wizard, animal or magical creature. The only reason it would say unknown was if it was something with no name, too new of a being to have one. A brand new creature. The frown faded from Snape's features as he stared at Harry's body.

"Sir?" Harry asked timidly. He really didn't like the look on Snape's face, and he didn't want to find out why he was being held under such a scrutinizing gaze.

"Stand up, Potter," the professor snapped, recovering as quickly as he could. Snape had no idea how long he'd been staring, though it must have only been a few moments. Harry did as he was told, and hoped he wasn't in trouble for something he probably didn't even do. "Goyle, trade places with Mr. Potter," Snape turned to say to the rather confused and rather large Slytherin boy. "Now!"

Goyle stood up and gathered his books in a hurry, almost dropping his cauldron on his foot, and made his way around the Slytherin table he shared with Draco and over to Ron and Harry. Snape gestured haughtily at the empty seat Harry had stood from, and Goyle sat down. Ron looked disgusted at having to sit with the other boy, but he knew if he said anything, it'd be detention for Mr. Weasley. Needless to say, Ron kept his mouth shut.

"I've decided that, for today, we will be switching partners. No, you may not pick your own," he said preemptively, before any students could be the slightest bit happy at the small change. "I will be placing you with a member of the opposite House. One Slytherin, one Gryffindor. Any objections?" Snape raised his eyebrows, looking misleadingly like he cared to hear any of their suggestions or complaints. "No one?"

Silence.

"Very well, then," he continued. "Potter, take Goyle's seat beside Mr. Malfoy." Harry gaped at his professor for a moment, not believing his ears. He hadn't been able to get Draco's attention from his fellow house mates, and here he was, being sat down right beside the boy. God, he wondered what would happen. Would Draco pretend nothing had happened, would he be even more malicious than he ever was before towards him?

Harry gathered his books and made his way to the other side of the room, looking back at his friends to catch a sympathetic glance from Hermione. Ron just looked like he was in full sulk mode beside Goyle, who, frankly, looked constipated.

"Pucey, Longbottom," Snape made a gesture with his hands, meaning for them to switch seats, seating Adrian beside Hermione. And Neville beside Blaise. Snape smirked as he watched the two quiet boys look at each other with slight trepidation before Blaise looked straight up at Severus, almost warningly. Snape looked away slowly, with a slightly raised eyebrow. Oh, this was fun, he thought to himself. It was worth the dull throbbing headache behind his eyes to see the looks on the faces of those who were clearly having a private relationship.

He wouldn't expose the two boys, because he quite liked the quiet intelligence of Zabini, the mettle he clearly could exude when he chose, and he could only hope some of the talent the Slytherin showed would rub off on Longbottom. Well, something would be rubbed off either way, but that was something Snape really didn't want to think about at the moment. He watched as Malfoy sat, studiously ignoring Potter, his arms crossed over his chest lazily. He did look very calm, and not that unhappy with the new seating arrangement.

Snape continued to switch his students around in their seats until everyone was partnered with a member of their rival House. He kept an eye on Potter the entire time, though, and he seemed to want to say something, presumably to Draco. Snape began his class, telling them to open their texts to page four thousand two hundred thirty eight and begin making one of the potions listed on that page. There were four to choose from, so Snape would have something more interesting to grade than going over the exact same potion twenty times.

It would cut the assignments in half, as well, because they were working in pairs. Said pairs had also been put together in the hopes that nothing would possibly go wrong with each potion, giving them all good marks, and giving Snape an easy night of amusing himself by testing each potion on a toad. When all the students had started into their work, Snape returned to his desk to watch them. Malfoy and Potter didn't seem to know how to work with each other, and seemed most often to be doing solitary things and talking when it was absolutely needed.

Clearly, they were a bit uncomfortable about being together in public. Zabini and Longbottom seemed to be doing better, though. Blaise was being careful about how much he touched Longbottom's hands, which made it seem more obvious as he guided the Gryffindor's hands to properly chop up some roots. They seemed to have a more well versed relationship, and Snape had to wonder how on earth Harry and Draco had gotten together. As much as Severus didn't like the boy, he didn't want Potter to have been forced against his will.

He knew the boy's father well, and Draco was nothing if not following vaguely in Lucius' faded footsteps. Snape wouldn't put it past the young Malfoy to do something of that caliber. Though, he thought, Potter would have put up a stronger fight if the blond had forced himself on him, and he didn't seem scared to be sitting next to Malfoy. Snape closed his eyes as he took a drink of his Firewhisky, blinking to clear his eyes from a blur of dark colors as the potion began to wear off.

Throughout the remainder of the class, there were only a few questions Snape had to answer, and he was relieved not to see the glowing spheres any longer. He had to wipe down his doorway after class before Dumbledore or McGonagall could determine where exactly this potion, bordering on Dark Arts, was coming from. Most students, after finishing their potions, had taken out their textbooks and begun to read.

This almost caught Snape off guard; he'd never seen many students, save Ms. Granger, voluntarily pick up a text and begin to read it at random. He supposed with them being separated from their friends, they had nothing to do but avert their eyes and keep from starting into an argument with their unwilling table partners. Snape smirked as he stood to gather their potions, and gave them the rest of the class off, to either sit and continue reading, or to join their friends. He also made a mental note to catch Potter sometime away from his friends, just to have a little chat.

\---

The trio of best friends had all settled themselves in the common room at their usual table. They were glad the classes for the day were over and done with, and, like everyone else, were now eagerly awaiting tomorrow afternoon's Quidditch game. Gryffindor would be playing against the winner, so it would be important for their team to watch the game to know what kind of tactics they would be up against.

They had been sitting at their table working on their respective homework since they came back to the tower after supper. As usual, Hermione had finished hers about an hour earlier than Ron or Harry had, but that was okay. She stayed down to give them support or help with their work. Ron was working on his Divination papers from the other day, trying to catch up on them so he could have a weekend free from trying to memorize potential death omens.

Hermione had picked up her knitting and was just about finished with her most recent sweater for the house elves. When she had put the last stitch in place, she set it aside and took a deep breath, stretching her arms out above her head and closing her eyes as she did so. Harry didn't even look up for more than a second at his friend, but Ron was thoroughly distracted by the thin fabric pulled taut across Hermione's chest.

She opened her eyes and hastily pulled her arms down when she saw Ron had been watching her. She smiled at him, trying not to feel too embarrassed. Ron smiled back quickly and turned to his work again, but Hermione could see the tips of his ears turning red. She supposed she didn't have a real reason to feel embarrassed; she did like Ron, and should appreciate him being interested in her as well, right? Right.

It had been just over two hours from the time Hermione had finished her own homework, and now that she was finished with her knitting, she decided to go off to bed. She was too tired to start another sweater, and she looked up at the large clock above the fireplace; it read ten thirty. She piled her books to the side, not even feeling up to lugging them with her up the stairs. She'd clean up tomorrow some time since they didn't have much to do besides go watch the match.

She said goodnight to Harry, who hardly looked up from his Transfiguration homework, and she squeezed her hand over Ron's shoulder as she said she'd see him tomorrow. Ron sat back in his chair and smiled at her, not turning away so quickly this time. She smiled back and made her way towards the stairs that led up to the dorm room she shared with the other Seventh Year girls.

A few minutes after Hermione had left, Ron leaned back in his chair again and closed his copy of Predicting the Unpredictable. It had been one of the new books they'd had to purchase for their Seventh Year studies with Professor Trelawney. They still used Unfogging the Future, but lately, for NEWT purposes, they had been told to do work using the new text. Getting closer to their NEWTs meant more books to read. Unfortunately.

Sighing, Ron shoved his books a little across the table. He had just finished the work he'd been behind on, and he was pooped. He decided to finish the rest tomorrow. Harry looked up at Ron after the red head's books had nudged into his own. "Alright there, Ron?" he asked with a slight frown at the odd look his friend had on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ron said, shutting the rest of his books and piling them like Hermione had done. He was really trying to gather the courage to ask Harry a few things, in regards to what he was proving incapable of getting off his brain lately. With a deep breath, Ron leaned forward, closer to Harry so that no one could over hear them. "There's just something that's been nagging at me for the last few days."

This got Harry's attention now. He'd been studiously shoving his face into his books all night, trying to get caught up on things, and trying not to think of Draco too much. It became easier when he switched from Divination to Transfiguration homework, as their Head of House's class was a lot more interesting than Professor Trelawney's. Harry watched as Ron leaned across the table, crossing his arms over it as he did so.

"Have you ever done it before?"

Harry blinked. "Done what?" he asked, though the question was beginning to click in his mind as he thought about it. He shifted his eyes to look around the room. There were only two other students in the common room, and they were over on the other side. Certainly they wouldn't hear them, but the conversation seemed to warrant a quiet tone none the less.

"You know," Ron said. "It." He cleared his throat a bit and couldn't quite look Harry in the eyes as he proceeded, opting for looking down at Harry's essay. "Have you ever shagged anyone?"

"Er," Harry replied eloquently. It seemed just to roll off his tongue and out his slack jawed mouth. Now this was exactly the line of questioning Harry had been hoping to avoid. He couldn't tell Ron about Draco, but he supposed from the way he was starting to blush, and how he'd suddenly decided to take part in the elusive sport of watching ink dry, he'd already given his answer.

"I knew it!" Ron crowed loudly, abruptly losing his tact at not letting the entire tower know what he knew. He almost giggled with his regained confidence as he asked, "Who was she? Come on, you can tell me."

"Sorry, Ron; I don't kiss and tell," Harry replied, recovering as quickly as he could, while still blushing slightly. He wasn't going to correct his friend on pronouns, and he supposed he could play the gender game for a while. I mean, Harry thought, they're going to find out sooner or later, aren't they? He had to tell them soon.

He didn't think his friends would have cared either way, regardless of gender. Harry could screw either gender of barn yard animals for all it really mattered, because it still wouldn't have been an issue of who. As it were, that _was_ the issue. He seriously doubted if Hermione or Ron would have approved of him shagging Malfoy. They might simply think he was being manipulated or under some spell, or even just ask what the hell he'd been smoking.

"Well, when you kiss again, will you tell me?" Ron asked, winking at his friend. Harry was about to reply with another resounding 'No' to that before he was horribly distracted. Ron watched as the dark-haired boy's eyes widened slightly, mouth caught in an 'o' shape before he smiled nervously.

Hermione stood at the bottom of the stairs, paused, as she listened to the boys' conversation. You know how you're tired, but then you go to bed, and have the lights off, your eyes stop being so heavy and they relax as your body does, then you don't feel as tired anymore? That's what happened, and Hermione had decided to come back downstairs to grab a book to read herself to sleep.

Ron frowned, because he noted that Harry's gaze was directed over his shoulder. Realization dawned on him, and he turned slowly. "Er," he said, about as classy as Harry had made it sound. "Hi, Hermione." The girl in question shuffled for a moment as she stepped off the last stair and onto the floor of the common room. She vaguely nodded at them, brain clearly working over time on something else, as she moved to the table to pick up one of her Arithmancy books.

She said good night to them both quietly, barely audible, and she hurried back to the stairs. They stared after her until she disappeared up the stairs, and they only heard the faint bump of the door as Hermione closed it behind herself. Silence descended in the room, and they realized that the other occupants of the room had also gone up to bed.

"Well, bollocks," Ron muttered, breaking the silence, and the two boys looked at each other. Harry gave a small shrug, hoping the conversation wouldn't reignite, and was thankful when they seemed to mutually just go up to bed.

\---

Harry woke up a little later than usual on Saturday morning, but that was fine with him. He got out of bed, cleaned himself up, dressed, and went down to the common room. It was eight-thirty, according to the clock above the fireplace, and Harry decided he'd stop off at the Great Hall to nick a few muffins before going outside. Breakfast on weekends was held for an extra hour, allowing any students to sleep in who wished to do so.

Half the Great Hall was filled with students, though they were leaving in groups as they made their way outside to the Quidditch pitch. Everyone had been waiting on tenterhooks for the season to start. At the end of last year's season at Hogwarts, the Hufflepuff's team had really improved. Their first game against the ruthless Slytherins, though? They might be hard to beat. Most people wanted to find out if it had been a fluke, or if they really had made some progress.

The Hufflepuff team had really taken a dive in their game after Cedric died. They'd been steadily trying to pull themselves together after the unfortunate and untimely departure of their Seeker and Captain three years ago. New players were found, and they now had a solid team, and last year, they had played a remarkable final game. It had been the last game of the season, to determine the House Cup. Hufflepuff vs. Ravenclaw, and they only lost by thirty points. It was one of the best games they'd played in the past five years, and that alone was worth their celebration party.

There were a few players in the air, Harry saw, as he got near to the stadium. Some yellow blurs and a few green were circling in the air, starting to descend. The players landed as Harry got up into a Hufflepuff colored spectator stand, and he watched as the two teams took their places on the field.

There was a loud screech of feedback from the commentator's microphone, and Harry looked up to the slightly higher box to see Seamus Finnigan trying to pull the microphone away from Colin Creevey. Seamus did the play by play accounting of the games in which he wasn't playing in, and in the others, Colin took on the role. Seamus was better at it, by far, most people agreed. Colin had a tendency to become breathless as he called out the plays, whereas Seamus had a more steady voice, even with his accent.

Madam Hooch, who was standing in the center circle of the pitch where the balls would be let out from, watched the Captains, Adrian Pucey and Susan Bones, shake hands. "Mount your brooms," she said, putting her silver whistle to her lips and waiting. She blew sharply into the instrument and all fourteen players zoomed up into the air. At the sound of the whistle, the four balls were triggered to be released from their bonds, and they flung themselves straight up into the air.

Madam Hooch joined the players in the air, as the referee, speeding off to the side of the pitch so as not to get hit with a Bludger. "And they're off!" Seamus called loudly into the microphone. "The Quaffle is taken immediately by Hannah Abbott of Hufflepuff -- what an excellent Chaser!"

The Slytherin stands across the pitch from where Harry was were filled with cheering students just like the one he was in, and he wondered where his friends were. Certainly they wouldn't be on the other side of the pitch, so Harry turned and scanned the crowd around him for a sign of Ron. "And she's really belting along up there, a neat pass to fourth year, Kevin Whitby. Last year he was only a reserve player, though a good find by the Hufflepuff Captain Susan Bones. The Quaffle passes back to Abbott -- no, the Slytherins have taken possession..."

Harry stood on his toes as best he could in the jostling crowd, and he spotted a tuft of red hair not too far away from him. "Slytherin Captain, Pucey, gains the Quaffle and off he goes, flying like an eagle up there -- he's going to sc - no! Stopped by an excellent move by Hufflepuff Keeper, MacMillan!"

"Hey," Harry said loudly to his friend when he reached the redhead's side. Harry didn't feel awkward speaking to Ron now, and he hoped Ron felt the same way. Guys talk about sex occasionally, you know? It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Well, just the part where Hermione had overheard them.

"Hiya, Harry," Ron called back over the cheers of the crowd before turning to watch the game again. Harry wondered if Ron would try to bring it up again. Or, if the next time Harry disappeared for an hour or so, would Ron want him to tell him the details? Now that Ron, and basically Hermione as well, knew that he had a lover, they'd put two and two together, right?

"And the Hufflepuffs take the Quaffle! That's Chaser Hannah Abbott out there, nice dive around McDougall, off up the field and -- OUCH! -- That must have hurt, hit in the back by a Bludger sent by Vince Crabbe. Quaffle taken by the Slytherins -- that's Zabini speeding off towards the goal posts, but he's blocked by a second Bludger, sent his way by Finch-Fletchley. Nice play by the Hufflepuff Beater."

"Where's the Hufflepuff Seeker?" Ron asked, squinting up into the air. Neither of them had a set of Omnioculars, but it wasn't bad today since the sun wasn't glaring into their eyes. Hufflepuff had gotten a new Seeker last year, but no one had seen her play because she was a reserve player as well.

"And Bones back in possession for Hufflepuff, a clear field ahead of her and off she goes, she's really flying! Dodges a Bludger - the goal posts are ahead. Come on, Susan! Keeper Nott dives - misses - Hufflepuff scores!"

"There!" Harry shouted to his friend over the crowd, pointing up and over to the left, almost near the Slytherin goals. The girl started moving almost as soon as Harry pointed her out to Ron.

"Hang on," Ron frowned. "She's in fourth year, and in Hermione's Muggle class." That's where he'd seen her before; on the Quidditch benches last year when she wasn't actually playing. He had thought it was because she wasn't that good, but she seemed to be doing well now as she zipped around in the air.

"Wait, how can she be in the same class as Hermione when she's three years behind?" Harry asked, confused as he watched the Seeker.

"She's dead brilliant, that one, apparently," Ron said, still watching her fly through the air looking for any sight of the Snitch. Speaking of Snitch, Harry thought, he'd barely seen Malfoy at all during the game. He'd lazily searched for the golden ball at the beginning, trying to capture it before any points were scored, but he'd lost sight of it as it zoomed up into the air too fast for him to follow.

He saw Malfoy now, after a moment of scanning the sky, and spotted him dodging through the players. He looked for all the world like he'd seen the Snitch, and was obviously going after it. To his side, Ron began shouting encouragements for Hufflepuff, and it drew Harry's attention from the Slytherin speeding through the air. "Hufflepuff's winning? Over Slytherin?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, mate. Where have you been for the past hour?" Harry frowned, almost feeling unhappy about it. He guessed he had been unconsciously rooting for his boyfriend's team. Was Draco his boyfriend now? He supposed some couples liked it rough, but maybe that was going to change, considering their last excursion into the forays of their new found sex life together.

At another goal scored by Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff supporters' cheers filled the cool air, with howls and moans from the Slytherins. "No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?" Ron asked, rubbing his hands together now. It was starting to get a bit chilly out, and it was getting later in the year, approaching the winter season.

"Wait, there it is." Harry watched the Hufflepuff Seeker. She had used a familiar tactic that Oliver Wood had taught him. _Keep out of the way until you catch sight of the Snitch,_ Wood had always said to him. _We don't want you attacked before you have to be._

She clearly wouldn't have a problem with that as they watched her lean her broom to the side, slamming into Malfoy and trying to knock him off course. She was smaller, though, and wasn't prepared for the solid weight of Draco's body leaning back into her slam. Draco accelerated and sped forward after the Snitch. Catching up to him, Laura slammed into him again, this time putting all her momentum behind it and managing to throw Draco this time. He wobbled on his broom, and slipped sideways on it, almost flipping under. He gave one last effort with his outstretched hand, giving one last snatch at the ball before he had to slow and right himself on his broom.

Draco was gliding over the game again, squinting about frantically for some sign of the Snitch. He heard the crowds yell as a goal was scored, but he couldn't be bothered to turn and find out who had got another point. He did a loop around the rest of the players before he turned and caught sight of Madley, the Hufflepuff Seeker, thrusting her arm out and grasping the Snitch between her fingers.

He didn't have time to fume at the moment about being bested by a girl, when a Bludger decided to come pelting his way, more like a cannon ball than anything. He dodged it and sped lower. Now, he just wanted to get the hell off the pitch now that the game was over. They'd lost. It was almost unbelievable, and to Hufflepuff no less. The Slytherin team had all but accepted that the Gryffindor team was about their equal in matches, but Hufflepuff? Come on.

"Slytherin in possession," Seamus was saying, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, both Beaters, and Chaser Whitby, and speeds toward the -- wait a moment -- was that the Snitch?" Heads spun around to look for the Seekers, and Laura held up the walnut sized golden ball, and waved it towards Seamus, nodding enthusiastically.

"Laura Madley has caught the Snitch!"

A murmur ran through the crowd as Adrian Pucey dropped the Quaffle, too stunned to keep a hold on it as he looked over his shoulder at the Hufflepuff Seeker. Suddenly, Madam Hooch blew her whistle again, and it startled enough students to make them jump in the stands. "Hufflepuff wins!" shouted Seamus at the top of his lungs into the microphone. Colin was clapping happily beside the Irish boy, having gave up on trying to comment this game.

The crowd broke out in a riot of cheers and boos as the two teams drifted back down to the ground. The Slytherin Keeper, Theodore Nott, was the last to land, but the first person Draco heard utter an obscenity in his direction. "Shit, Draco," Nott said, crossing his arms as he walked towards his other teammates. Being the Keeper, if they lost, it was usually his fault, or Draco's, but he'd kept a decent amount of goals out of their hoops.

"What the fuck was that shit out there, Malfoy? We have no time for you to piss around playing the gentleman. You should have knocked her off her broom, but I guess even she was better at that than you, too," Adrian sneered. He was completely frustrated at the match. They lost to Hufflepuff. They'd never, as long as he'd been at Hogwarts, lost to Hufflepuff. Pucey stormed off, leading the rest of the team back up to the castle, not even bothering to go to the showers.

The rest of the team followed silently, but clearly angry. Blaise gave a small shrug to Draco, who was left standing at the edge of the pitch, before he turned and followed the rest of the team back to the dungeons.

Harry watched the Slytherins go straight back to the castle, and frowned. "Where are they going?" Harry asked out loud, not to anyone in particular, mostly to himself, but Ron answered him anyway.

"Probably don't want to hear the cheers from the Hufflepuff locker room. It's right beside theirs, those uppity bastards." Ron turned and made his way down from the stands, getting himself quite a few feet from Harry with several people in between them. Harry didn't think the Hufflepuffs would brag about winning, but they'd certainly be exuberant about it.

Looking back out to the pitch, Harry saw a lone blur of green robes as it stomped its way towards the locker rooms. Harry frowned when he saw the blond hair. Why wouldn't Draco be going straight back to the dungeons with his teammates? He watched as Draco indeed went to the locker rooms. Harry turned back to the moving crowd all around him, and he couldn't see Ron anywhere around his immediate position, and he decided to take advantage of it.

Harry turned in the crowd and began making his way towards the other set of stairs leading down from the spectator stands. When he reached the bottom, he looked around to make sure that Ron or Hermione didn't see him before he sprinted across the pitch towards the change rooms.

Draco kicked open the door to the Slytherin locker room. He could hear the Hufflepuffs talking merrily as he passed their door, and it only served to make him even more furious. Slytherin vs Hufflepuff. They usually won those matches hands down, but they'd apparently been caught off guard by the two new Chasers, and that female Seeker, and they lost the game. They lost. How could they lose?!

Not to mention almost getting knocked off his broom by a girl, and a fourth year girl, no less. Draco was sufficiently pissed off right now, just like the rest of his team. They definitely weren't too happy with him right about now. He could have won the god damn game if he'd have caught the Snitch, but he didn't. "Fuck," Draco growled as he shoved his broom towards the floor.

It landed with a clatter that almost echoed in the empty room. He could vaguely hear the Hufflepuffs in the next room. Draco tore his gloves from his arms and threw them hard down to the floor as well. Very unexpectedly, he heard the door creak open. He closed his eyes and sighed, hoping to Merlin that it wasn't someone from his team coming to bitch him out again for losing. To Hufflepuff.

"Draco?"

He heard the voice call out quietly to him from around the corner. Draco frowned; what the fuck was Potter doing in here? "What do you want?"

Harry shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Just to see you, I guess."

"Why? Wanted to come poke fun at me?" Draco sneered, then began in a falsetto voice, "'Ooh, poor Malfoy, got knocked off his broom by a girl'." Draco had stalked up towards Harry, who was almost backed against the lockers now. They stared at each other and Draco clearly wasn't making any move to step back. He stood right where he was and shucked off his outer, deep green colored Quidditch robe.

Staring back at the Gryffindor for another second, he then brought his hands up to either side of Harry's face, and leaned forward to initiate what turned into quite a fierce kiss. Harry's eyes widened, and he struggled to jerk his hands from his pockets. His first thought was to push Malfoy away, but all the previous encounters between them told him otherwise, and he began to reciprocate, even as he felt Draco sink his teeth down over his bottom lip.

Draco pulled back from the kiss, leaving barely two seconds for Harry to wince at the sharp pain continuing to blossom from his abused lip. He slipped his tongue over it, almost amazed that he tasted blood, and was caught unaware again when he felt Draco move in close and slide his tongue over Harry's, beginning another kiss. It wasn't much nicer than the last, and Harry almost didn't want to part tongues, afraid of what was to come, when Draco turned his body roughly around to face the other direction.

Pressing his hand flat against Harry's back, he successfully shoved the dark-haired boy's cheek into the lockers. Harry didn't have the time to think before his breath was knocked out of him. For some reason, he had the sinking sensation that this wouldn't be a good idea to go along with, but he knew, at the same time, that he wouldn't stop it. Harry could have, but he didn't. He suddenly felt the cool autumn air as Draco magicked his trousers off to land onto the nearby bench. Draco did the same to his own and all Harry heard was the clatter of wood on stone as the Slytherin dropped his wand to the floor.

There was absolutely no warning but for the loss of lower body coverings, yet Harry was definitely not prepared for Draco's unceremonious and rough intrustion, and he let out a loud cry. He wondered for a brief minute, hearing more than feeling Draco give a shuddering breath against his neck, if anyone would stumble upon them. No one would wonder for a moment about what noise they were making. The Hufflepuffs could be heard next door, cheering loudly and gleefully as they celebrated their recent victory.

Harry was torn between wondering idly if Draco was actively listening to them; if the blond was feeling encouraged by their cheers to make him angry, or felt like he was doing something for the better. Inside of him, Harry felt something give, and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling them wet where they closed, and he tried to pull away. As hard as he tried to dislodge the taller boy, Draco only tightened his firm grip on Harry's left hip and on the handle of one of the lockers.

He wondered if he could reach the mechanism under the handle that undid the latch. It might swing open from Draco's hold on it, pulling on it, and perhaps throw the boy from Harry's body. Harry opened his eyes again, seeing only a blur, and all he could do was watch the locker; Draco's hand wrapped around the handle. Recalling only two days ago, when this act was being preformed much differently, with Draco's hand wrapped around something entirely different.

Draco's panting was heavy and erratic, interspersed with his breath giving the occasional hitch. It was beginning to become brutal, and he wanted very much just to ease the pain, or stop it completely, yet he did nothing. Draco was panting heavily still as he let his frustration flow, and felt a twinge of guilt hit him square in the chest. He shut his eyes and frowned, face twisted in anger as he pressed forward as hard as he could.

Making up his mind when it started to grow unbearable, Harry lifted his face away from the locker as best he could. Draco's body pushed him almost flush against it on each movement of his hips, and Harry felt resistance as he pressed back. "Draco, stop! You're hurting me!" No difference in speed or rhythm, and Harry was starting to feel scared. He didn't know whether Draco didn't hear him over his breath, or simply didn't care. Tears threatened to spill from the pain as Harry attempted to relax in spite of it.

"Draco!" Harry dared to scream. If anyone was going to find out about them, he was pretty sure he didn't want this to be the situation they were found in. Draco ground out a moan through his teeth, overlapping Harry's cry, and they both tensed when more spastic rhythms of Draco's hips began. Harry could feel the warm discomfort: Draco's seed. Harry felt numb as Draco pulled away quickly, not even finished with his climax.

Harry felt a splash across his arse as well as a stream of liquid trailing slowly down his legs. Tensing himself convulsively, even if it only served to cause him more pain, was oddly comforting, and Harry turned away from the lockers. Draco hadn't even noticed the evidence of his abuse as he stood, unsure of what to do. Harry saw the blond's hands balled up into fists, muscles tensed, and a brief flash of fear flitted through his head.

He was startled out of his fear, and subsequently had it doubled as Draco slammed his back against the lockers and slowly began to slide down their length. Harry couldn't feel the temperature of the floor, still wearing his shoes and socks, and he wondered perversely if Draco's arse was getting rather cold now. The blond had settled into a slump at the foot of the lockers, his Quidditch team sweater pooled slightly around his waist. It painted a sad picture as Draco held his head in his hands, fingers twined rough and tight through his silky hair. It ruffled into sharp spikes, embellished by sweat sticking them together, forming delicate peaks. "Aaargh!"

The deep sound echoed in the room, empty save for the two of them, of course. It made Harry jump, not prepared for the other boy's outburst. Just as suddenly, Draco jerked his head out of his palms and with its momentum, smacked it into the thin metal door of the locker, sufficiently denting it inwards. Conversely, this didn't take Harry by surprise enough to wince. He stood there half nude and bleeding, watching the blond.

It was silent for few moments, only their slight movements making any sound at all. The winning team had vacated their locker room and left, going back to the castle for lunch. Draco's breath returned before Harry's, and he was left listening to the other boy's ragged intake of oxygen, clearly in pain. He sighed, opening his eyes so he could look at Harry, into the other boy's eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, belying the usual terse tones Harry was familiar with.

All Harry managed to get out was a weak scoff as he stared back at Draco. The blank look in both of their eyes was driving each of them mad, and yet all they could do was let the moment consume them, until finally Harry broke contact. He stood, more quickly than would have been recommended in his current state, and grabbed his trousers from the bench behind them. Absently thankful that Draco hadn't sent their trousers to oblivion in his reckless state, Harry walked as briskly as he dared towards the back door out of the Slytherin locker room.

\---

With a desk top filled with assignments to grade, Severus Snape sat on the other side of the room in an overstuffed armchair, sipping at a cup of tea. His mind refused to concentrate on work tonight. Rather than absently marking every parchment as a P, of course throwing in the occasional D, without even reading the students' work, he'd made his drink and settled in to think about his newfound information.

After the results of his potions, Snape had to wonder what he would do about it. By all means, he could just keep his nose clear of the entire situation, but that might prove a worse thing to do. He knew very well that Potter had been completely uneducated in the ways of the wizarding world before he came to Hogwarts, and Snape sincerely doubted that the boy had wanted a child. He either didn't know, as Snape suspected, or he was mad.

Malfoy, on the other hand, should have known full well that this could happen, and Snape didn't think the boy was stupid enough to let it. Coming from a pure blood family, he surely should have known. Snape really couldn't imagine Lucius or Narcissa giving their boy a lecture on sexual conduct, though. He took a drink of his tea, that had almost been forgotten in his hands as he stared into the flames as they licked around inside the fireplace.

It was safe to assume that Potter simply didn't know, and that Malfoy didn't remember, or didn't care. Also, it was a sure bet that their relationship was one held in utter privacy. If they had a relationship at all. Perhaps they'd just up and decided to go for a romp in Snape's office and that was that. If they were hoping for anything serious, this would be a potential breaking point between them, or, conversely, it would serve to bring them together.

A pregnancy like this was usually planned, and since they obviously didn't take precautions to prevent it, there was nothing to do but follow through. He'd have to tell them before it was too late and too obvious that there was something amiss in Potter's body. Snape sighed, reaching to set his tea cup down on the side table next to his chair. He stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankles, still staring at the fire.

How to tell Potter was still the difficult part, or should he confront Malfoy? He could talk to them both at the same time, by asking them to stay after class. No. He'd want to get this over with so he didn't have to think about it between classes on Monday. Severus sneered, remembering that he wouldn't even be there on Monday. He'd be gone for at least a week, and that would be too long to wait on telling the boys.

Making up his mind, he decided to get on with it. He'd tell Potter tomorrow when he caught him. At breakfast would be too obvious and oddly suspicious if he didn't make some rude remark about a failing grade in Potions, not to mention why he would be in the middle of the students' tables. There was no class to hold him behind in, and he might very well hide all day under his invisibility cloak for all Snape knew.

He could follow the boy, or tell another student to pass on the message that his presence was requested. Either way, it didn't matter. In the end, he'd have spoken to Potter and brought him up to speed on the unexpected results of his sexual excursions. Severus would let Potter tell Malfoy, since he was bound to do so after finding out what was happening inside of him. As much as it was a horrid idea to contemplate, the two of them having a child together, they would need to take care of the unborn life.

Snape closed his fingers over the bridge of his nose. He sighed, still with his hand over his face; he really wished he'd had an alcoholic drink instead of just tea. Quite frankly, if he started now, he didn't think he'd stop, and facing the Dark Lord while shitfaced was a suicidal thing to do. If that wasn't the upcoming most horrible thing on his agenda, talking to Potter would be, though at least he might get a bit of humor out of it. Oh, he could feel a headache coming on.

\---

Harry wondered if he had done the right thing by completely ignoring Ron when he'd silently stormed up to his bed yesterday. Forget homework, and never mind friends, he had some sulking to do. Or something. Ron had come up a few minutes later, and had asked through the closed curtains of Harry's bed if he was okay. Hermione had probably sent Ron to check on him, but Harry hadn't said anything, pretending to be asleep. Ron left quietly and didn't bother him again.

He'd spent the rest of the day in his bed thinking. Harry almost couldn't believe what he thought he was doing with Draco. For a brief period, he had questioned how Draco could do something like he had, but then Harry recalled their previous years, and stopped that line of thought. Instead, he wanted to kick himself for thinking that Draco could be a nicer guy than what he put on as a show. But, he knew Draco had it in him; he'd seen brief flashes of it, and it intrigued Harry. Inexplicably, he was drawn to that side of the Slytherin, and wanted to know more.

That morning, Ron had been gone when Harry got out of bed, as were all but one of his room mates. Seamus was in the bathroom, but he seemed to pick up on the fact that Harry wasn't in a very good mood, and wisely didn't say anything. Harry washed up and went down for breakfast. He didn't really want to see his friends, but he was a bit peckish. He pulled on his robe over his clothes and made his way downstairs. He wondered if Draco would try to talk to him again, or if he'd find himself seeking out the blond for a second time.

The Great Hall was half full of students, leaving many seats unfilled, but enough to make the room look intimidating to someone who didn't really want to engage in pointless conversation. Well, unless you were talking to Hermione; she always had a point. As he walked, Harry's attention was drawn to the staff table.

"No, Severus, I'm afraid that you must go," Dumbledore said, though well out of Harry's range of hearing, especially as he spoke quietly to his Potions master. "If you wish, all Potions classes will be cancelled, rather than a substitute teacher brought in to teach them in your absence."

"But, Headmaster! I can't..." Snape trailed off, halted by the stern look on Dumbledore's face. It brooked no argument, and he knew he'd have to go. He sighed, resigned, and nodded slowly at the old professor before turning and stalking back to his own seat at the head table. He attacked his breakfast with apparent fury, and Harry watched curiously. He definitely would try to stay out of Snape's way today.

"Harry!"

"What?" he asked, startled, and a bit confused at why the girl was shouting at him.

"I _said_ ," she said pointedly, "you've got a note." She gestured to the table in front of him, in his usual spot, and there sat a note with his name, Mr. Potter, scrawled across it in formal looking writing.

"Who's it from?" Harry frowned at it, almost like that would tell him all the secrets of the universe. He sat down in front of the envelope and continued to look at it. Hermione and Ron were waiting patiently, and Harry noticed that a few others were as well. Over the years, they'd come to expect interesting things to happen to Harry. Amazing things could start small, and this was no exception.

"Well, if you'd open it, maybe we'd know. It was here when everyone came in, no one saw anyone leave it here." And that was true. None of the students had seen anyone bring it over, or one of the teachers, for that matter. It was just there, laying on the Gryffindor table.

Harry had a brief thought that perhaps it was from Dumbledore, telling him something secret, or that they couldn't be seen talking to each other for some reason. Now eager to find out what was enclosed in the small envelope, Harry picked it up and opened it quickly. He unfolded the piece of parchment inside and let his eyes roam over it as he read. 'Can you meet me you know where after breakfast? D.'

His eyes widened as he finished, clearly noting the only person who would send him a note saying what this one said, and he shifted the paper in his hands to cover the D with his thumb. "Who's it from?" Hermione asked, sounding a bit suspicious or concerned. Harry couldn't quite tell, but if he had to guess, it was because of the other night when he'd come back late from supper. He honestly did look like he'd just been shagged, now that he looked back at the situation.

"I dunno," Harry lied. "Maybe it wasn't for me." He stood up from his seat and climbed over the long bench, starting towards the huge doors of the Hall. He barely heard Hermione call after him, 'But it was addressed to you!'

Snape looked up at the familiar voice shouting a slight bit above the rest of the dull chatter in the Hall. For once, he'd like to have a breakfast in silence, but Dumbledore almost told the staff it was required to attend meals in the hall, unless absolutely swamped with work. His forehead creased as he frowned, scanning the Gryffindor table for Potter. He wasn't surprised to actually see the boy already out of his seat and on his way towards the doors.

What was amusing was that he saw the same thing happen at the Slytherin table, minus the concerned call after the boy. Draco stood up from his seat, seemingly nonchalant, though he must have been watching the other table, or had the two of them planned to meet before hand? Snape supposed they would have to 'get together' when most other students were occupied.

Though, if he was not mistaken, it looked like he wasn't the only one curious about Potter's recent expositions. Looking to the Gryffindor table, Snape saw Ron and Hermione staring after their friend and his... accomplice; the teacher sneered. He'd find Potter and talk to him shortly, as soon as he could find the boy.

Hermione was watching Harry leave when she heard a bit of a ruckus from the other side of the room, from around the Slytherin table. 'No, I've got to go,' Draco had said, though no one past the Slytherin table heard, leaving a couple of his house mates angrily yelling after him as he almost stumbled to get out from the table. "Ron, look!" Hermione said, pointing down the huge room. "You don't think...?"

Ron looked in the direction she was pointing, having to lean over his porridge to see. He scowled when he saw Draco Malfoy making a brisk path on his way out the door. He started to get up himself, but he suddenly felt Hermione's hands on his own, pulling him down. She didn't let go, Ron noted absently in his mind, though that was far from what he actually said. "Why would Malfoy want to meet Harry?" Ron spat out, clearly angry.

"I don't know," Hermione answered him seriously. "If it _was_ from Malfoy, remember what it said? 'You know where'?" Ron looked a bit blank, yet upset, and Hermione continued anyway. "They must have met each other somewhere before, as well, if Harry was to know where to go."

"What the fuck is Harry doing with that stupid prat?" He wasn't stupid himself, and he knew as well as Hermione did that Harry seemed to be sneaking off to see someone. Now, it was all fitting together who that someone was. Hermione frowned at his language and sighed, squeezing one of Ron's hands under hers across the table. The fury faded from Ron when he felt the pressure over his hand, and after that, he realized that she _still_ wasn't letting go.

They were silent for a moment, and he gently tugged one hand out of hers, hoping he wasn't going to ruin the contact in its entirety; he just wanted to eat his porridge in the meantime. If he wasn't having too active a part in the formulating of some sort of plan, which Hermione seemed to be doing judging by her distant look and slight crease of her forehead, he could still eat his breakfast. He tried not to smile to himself when he successfully freed one of his hands, and began to spoon some of his food into his mouth. It was another minute or so before Hermione said anything.

"I think I have an idea." She wanted to know what was going on with her other best friend as much as Ron did, but she really didn't like the idea of invading someone's privacy. Ron pleaded, and she agreed to stay. They finished their breakfasts before they made the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower. On the way, Hermione had explained what her idea was. She told Ron to get Harry's map, and they'd see where he'd gone before they jumped to conclusions.

What they saw didn't lift their spirits, though. Hermione had to take the map from Ron before he crumpled it into an unsightly ball of parchment, since Harry wouldn't be too pleased if something like that happened to his map. They saw Harry just reaching the Prefects' meeting room. Ron had wanted to go down and ask their friend what he was doing, with Malfoy, no less. Hermione held him back, and he reluctantly agreed. They sat and waited for Harry to get back.

\---

Harry was sufficiently pissed off by the time he managed to find the Prefects' room. He'd taken two wrong turns and run into Peeves. He spared no time talking to the poltergeist, just stormed right down the hall, telling the ghost to fuck off as he went. Peeves seemed to get the point that Harry was in no mood for him right now, no more than usual, but he decided to find another victim who would give him more satisfaction. He floated off in the other direction, watching Harry take a sharp turn around the corner at the end of the corridor.

Finally seeing the vaguely familiar paintings along the walls, Harry looked more closely at the doors, and found the one labeled correctly: Prefects Only. He sighed as he stood in front of the door, and moved his hand to the knob. It was locked. He frowned at it, and felt a surge of annoyance run through him, almost wanting to turn and go back to the Hall. Screw Draco, if he was going to lock the door and not let him in.

Wait a minute, Harry thought, recalling the spell the other boy had put on the door the last time they were here. "Draco Malfoy," he said to the door, and heard a faint click as it unlocked itself. Harry pushed it open and shut it behind him non-too-lightly. Draco had already arrived, and was wondering what was taking Harry so long, since he'd technically left the Hall after the Gryffindor boy.

Draco looked up as the door opened and shut with a heavy thud, clicking shut again and relocking itself. He had almost felt nervous as he waited for Harry, but now that he saw the other boy, he started to feel angry, especially after Harry spoke. "Okay, I'm here. What do you want, Malfoy?"

The blond frowned upon hearing his surname. He had thought they'd progressed past that childish practice, and were on a first name basis. Draco was beginning to like it. "I just wanted to talk," he said, and patted the space next to him, gesturing for Harry to come sit beside him.

Harry stared at the spot, realizing it was the same chair they'd sat in together the last time they were here. His chest tightened, remembering that night. It had been really nice and subsequently led Harry to drop his guard, and he'd gotten hurt. He frowned, and started towards the chair, only to turn and sit on a sofa opposite the spot Draco had indicated.

When he sat down, Harry gave Draco a look, clearly having taken the other seat out of spite. Draco sighed and shifted forward to the edge of the chair, leaning forward with his elbows on top his knees. Harry almost thought Draco was going to reach across and grab Harry's hands in his own, but he didn't. "Look," he started, "about yesterday." He paused, mouth working slightly as he tried to formulate what to say.

"Yes?" Harry prompted, crossing his arms over his chest. He'd decided not to cut Draco any slack. Whether they had a normal relationship or not, that didn't give Draco a reason to treat him like he had.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. It felt strange to apologize to Harry, not to mention it having been the first time he'd ever meant it. The only time he could recall saying the word 'sorry' was to his father when he'd disobeyed the man, and he'd never really been sorry for what he'd touched without his father's permission.

"What was that? I didn't quite hear you." Harry sounded quite petulant, and it needled Draco.

"You heard me," Draco sneered, becoming angry. "Look, I know I screwed up, and I'm trying to rectify it here, so don't go getting all high and mighty on me!" It wasn't easy to apologize, he found, especially if this was how Harry was going to react.

"It's not like this is anything but casual sex, right?" Draco continued, smirking, trying to find a sore spot with the other boy. He knew Harry wasn't exactly 'casual' with anything. He did suppose he was playing on his own fears instead of Harry's, because, frankly, he had no idea what Harry wanted.

Harry stared back at him incredulously, and at a loss for words for a moment. "No. I'm tired of this shit with you, Draco. You can take your apology and shove it up your arse." Having said his piece, he got up in a positive huff from his seat, and began to make his way towards the door. He had planned to make it out the door before Draco had time to head him off, but it didn't work that way, as Draco simply turned him around from behind. Even before Harry could protest, Draco had backed him up the few more steps towards the door, pressing him against it.

Harry succumbed to the force of Draco's body, and he wasn't surprised when Draco's hands moved from his shoulders to his hair, twining through it as he leaned forward to press his lips to Harry's. Opening his mouth instinctively, Harry accepted the kiss, letting Draco's tongue slither into his mouth. Harry felt his body relax as he felt his lower lip sucked between Draco's, though when he felt the teeth close down on it abruptly afterwards, he tried to pull back.

That didn't work very well, since he was pressed up against the door. He swore to himself he'd have the upper hand on Draco in the future, just to make him see what it felt like. He brought his own hands up to the blond's hair and mimicked Draco as he threaded his fingers through the silky strands. He pulled tight, trying to pull Draco's face away from his own. Draco resisted, biting down harder before letting go to lick at Harry's lips again. Their lips separated for a brief moment, and Harry loosened his fingers slightly, thinking Draco was going to back off.

He was wrong, and as Draco closed the infinitely small space between their lips, Harry was prepared, and grabbed hold of Draco's tongue with his teeth when the Slytherin licked it into Harry's mouth. "Ungh!" Draco moaned in pain when Harry held the sensitive flesh of the other boy's tongue. He didn't bite down, not wanting to hurt Draco, even though he may have deserved it. He tightened his fingers again, pulling back slightly, and this time Draco didn't resist. Harry released his hold on Draco's tongue as the blond backed up.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Harry said when Draco had taken a step back. He brought a hand to his lips, running his finger tip over the bottom one to check for blood. He didn't think Draco had bitten down that hard, but it was still sore and a bit raw from the day before.

Draco was obviously running his tongue around his mouth before he said, "And what the hell do you want me to say?! I'm sorry? Well, I'll say it again; I'm fucking sorry!" Draco yelled back at Harry, his anger rising towards the other boy, but it seemed to drop out the bottom of his stomach when Harry simply turned around, without another word, and opened the door, pushing Draco back even more as he did so.

Harry slammed the door in his wake, hard enough to make Draco wince when it hit its frame, and hard enough to make the pictures on the walls shudder on their nails. Draco stared at the door, wondering what the hell had just happened. He didn't know why he'd kissed Harry again, but it had felt good, and he'd wanted more, and had been prepared to take it. He knew he'd crossed a line yesterday, and wanted to back away from it, though it seemed he wasn't doing a very good job of that.

The other boy didn't seem to want to forgive him. Draco frowned and suddenly wanted to kick something, but he knew that would only serve to give him a sore foot. "Fuck!" he yelled to the empty room, before opening the door and leaving the room as well, heading back to his dorm. If Harry didn't want to talk, he wouldn't bother asking.

\---


	4. 4

On his way back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry had calmed down. He'd narrowed his problem with Draco down to one thing: he was tired of being used, and he wanted more. He didn't want to sever any ties with Draco, and after this, he knew he didn't want to return to hating each other. Did Draco still hate him? He might after Harry walked out of the room, shutting the door in his face. What did the blond want? Maybe, Harry thought, they should have a bit of time apart. They honestly didn't spend all that much time together, but perhaps that was the problem right there. There was no way of spending time together without everyone knowing and questioning.

That was another thing, too. He knew his friends were worried about him, and they obviously were starting to find the right track. They were too clever for their own good, sometimes, or maybe for _his_ own good. Was he insane to want some sort of relationship with Draco? If they found out, they'd just be trying to help him, and make sure he wasn't under some spell or something.

In the common room, Hermione and Ron had settled as best as they could at their table, homework laid out in front of them. Ron was simply glaring at his, and Hermione was trying to read. She couldn't even actually finish a page, just ending up reading the same sentence over and over again. Her mind wasn't on the book, but she couldn't just sit and stare at the wall while they waited. They were both thinking about Harry, and wondering what was going on in the Prefects' room.

They both jerked their heads towards the portrait door when they heard it creak open. Several people had already come in during the time they were waiting for Harry to return, and each time they'd looked up hopefully. This time, though, they were much relieved to see Harry come through. Before Hermione had a chance to say anything, she was startled by Ron slapping his book shut and standing up from the table. "And just what were you doing with that piece of shit?!" he yelled across the room.

"Ron, no!" Hermione cried out, standing up after him, struggling to get out from between the bench and the table. They really needed to drag some chairs over here to replace the bench, though the reason they hadn't done that to begin with was because they had to do homework here. She thought the boys were in danger of falling asleep in the comfy chairs instead of finishing their assignments.

"What?" Harry asked, feeling like all the warmth had drained out of his body, leaving him cold and frozen to the spot. They knew, he thought morosely. That had to be what Ron was talking about.

"I SAID," Ron started, sounding even more mad than before, if it were possible. Harry was glad someone still had their wits about them when Hermione all but jumped up to slap a hand over Ron's mouth. She widened her eyes at the taller boy, darting them around, indicating the rest of the people in the room. Ron looked around, still frowning, and saw that everyone had stopped to stare, the room silent, watching the three of them with absolute curiosity.

Ron took a moment, but he relaxed slightly, nodding under her hand. She slowly took her hand away, absently noting that it was wet from where it pressed against Ron's lips. He'd tried to continue shouting after she'd covered his big, fat pie hole, opening his mouth against her hand. She lifted her other hand to pat the boy on his arm, running her other hand down his chest slowly as he calmed down. Ron looked at her for a moment, a different look in his eye, before he looked back to Harry, his anger flaring again. He turned abruptly and stomped up the stairs to the boys' dorms.

Harry followed automatically, and Hermione did as well, completely never minding the fact that she wasn't allowed there. Thankfully, none of the other boys were there, and they had the room to themselves. Ron barely waited until Hermione had closed the door behind them before he started yelling again. "What the fuck were you doing with Malfoy?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, trying to sound confused, and wondering if he was just digging himself a deeper hole. He couldn't play this off now, they already knew, and had seen with their own eyes who he'd been with and where.

"Don't lie to us, Harry," Ron said, gesturing at Hermione as she came to his side. "We saw you on the map with him!"

Harry glared at his best friend, wanting to tell him the most awful parts of his and Draco's relationship, finishing off with that he absolutely loved it. He couldn't do that, though. He couldn't take a malicious tone with his friends, or lie to them any more than he had already by keeping this from them. "Okay!" Harry shouted back instead. "You're right, I was with Draco."

"Oh, it's 'Draco', now, is it?" Ron said mockingly, crossing his arms across his chest to keep from gesturing wildly in the air, trying to vent his frustration that way, and to keep from hitting something.

"Ron," Hermione said, giving him a stern look. She wanted to hear what Harry had to say. Even if she didn't like Malfoy any more than Ron did, they owed it to Harry, as his friend, to listen. "So... is Malfoy who you've been sleeping with?"

Harry's eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, and Ron wasn't too far behind. "WHAT?!" Ron screamed, as there was no other way to describe it. If his voice had gotten deeper over the past few years, he wasn't above squeaking occasionally.

"Ron!" Hermione shouted at the other boy, a look of pure warning in her eyes. Ron didn't want to upset her, so he wisely clamped his mouth shut again. Ugh, though, he thought. It was disgusting enough to think of Malfoy and Harry having anything to do with each other aside from throwing a few punches, but this really takes the cake. He shook his head to himself, barely aware that the others were watching him.

"Harry?" Hermione prompted softly. "You can tell us, we're your friends." She looked at him, her expression completely changed. Honestly, she wanted to know either way. It was Harry's decision in the end, but she didn't want him to hide it from them, whether they disapproved or not.

"Yes," Harry answered quietly. He supposed there was nothing he could do now. He couldn't lie to them if they already knew. When he had contemplated telling them before this, he had imagined a weight being lifted, not having to hide the fact that he and Draco had some type of relationship, but this certainly hadn't lifted anything. If nothing else, it seemed to add even more pressure on him.

Harry couldn't look at Hermione anymore, and he looked down to the floor, kicking a dust bunny back under Dean's bed. Ron had started an erratic path around the room, clearly frustrated. He had no idea what to do with himself, and was trying to deal with this new information. "You used protection, though, right?" Hermione asked, breaking the awkward silence with an equally awkward question. She already knew too much and felt a strong urge to go and wash her hands, but she didn't want to leave the two boys alone together right now.

"Why would I?" Harry asked, genuinely curious. He dared to look back at Hermione and saw there what he hadn't wanted to see. She was obviously making an effort to mediate between Harry and Ron, even if she felt the same way as the other boy.

"Because he's a nasty git and probably contracted a disease from Pansy Parkinson." Ron made a face, clearly grossing himself out at the thought. Hermione hit him on the arm and he turned around, continuing to pace around the stove in the middle of the room.

"Uhm," Hermione said, unsure of how to proceed. "Harry... I don't know if anyone ever told you, but I guess no one really expected you to be gay, and tho - "

"I'm not gay!" Harry protested, but immediately looked a bit disgruntled after it came out of his mouth. Was he? He hadn't enjoyed anything with his time with Cho, but that could have been because she was a whiny crybaby.

Hermione continued as if Harry hadn't interrupted her, "And they might have not bothered in telling you that..." She trailed off, feeling very horrible for having to have this talk with Harry. She supposed the Dursleys had never told Harry about anything regarding sexuality, and really didn't want to picture Dumbledore doing it. She had trouble shaking the strange picture of the old professor demonstrating with sock puppets, or something equally ridiculous.

"That what?" he prompted. Ron had stopped pacing and was definitely not eagar to hear what Hermione was about to say. He had an inkling, as his parents had told him in about the same way: Ron, we don't think you're gay, but you never know. We just want you to be careful, whatever route you take in your life, but you have to know -

"That male wizards can get pregnant," Hermione said.

Harry stared at her. Ron had cringed, and his face seemed to stick that way for a moment, slowly easing back into a slightly disgusted look. He'd probably be like that for a few days before he got something else on his mind but the disgusting mental images of Harry and Malfoy! You never wanted to picture it, but it ends up there accidentally anyway, sometimes no matter how hard you try.

Hermione stepped back abruptly when Harry stood just as suddenly. "What?" he breathed out, almost cracking a smile, hoping she was joking, or something, trying to make light of the situation. She nodded at Harry, and he scoffed, still not believing her. "No joke?" he asked when Ron started to look extremely uncomfortable, shifting awkwardly, and Hermione shrugged her shoulders and nodded again.

He felt himself start breathing faster, and hadn't realized he was almost hyperventilating before Hermione came towards him and tried to tell him to calm down. She didn't know why he was panicking, but that didn't matter at the moment. She supposed that Harry had a lot of shocks to his system whenever he'd found out about something in the wizarding world that was so different from the Muggle world.

When he felt Hermione's hands on his face, trying to pull him towards her, he shook them off. He shook his head and was about to say he was fine, when a wave of nausea rolled through him and he became dizzy. Reaching out almost blindly, Harry grabbed onto the nearest bedpost, holding himself up. He gasped in a breath of air, and held it, letting the nausea pass, and he tried to focus his eyes.

Hermione stood back, not sure of what to do, but Harry obviously didn't want her help right now. He had a lot to think about right now, and being hit with this didn't make it any easier. "I've got to get some air," he said. "I'll be back later." He reluctantly let go of the bedpost and took a hesitant step forward. He didn't fall flat on his face, and he took that as a good sign, continuing on his way towards the door. He hoped he would make it out onto the grounds without falling over before his vision stopped spinning.

That was all Harry said to his friends, leaving them watching after him as he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs. Hermione sighed and sat down on Ron's bed, realizing this was the first time in years since she'd been in the boys' dorms. Ron sat down beside her heavily, making the bed bounce slightly. Taking a chance when she felt Ron's arm brush her own, Hermione leaned over, resting her head against Ron's shoulder.

The bed stopped moving, and it was oddly silent and, just as oddly and tentatively, she felt Ron lift his arm behind her and settle it over her shoulders. Despite the argument beforehand, at least they could find some comfort with each other. They hadn't really spoken about their 'date' on the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend, but they had been feeling more comfortable with each other ever since they'd had that talk.

@>*~

By the time Harry had made it out of Gryffindor Tower, and down to the main floor, he was feeling a bit better. At least now he could see straight as he walked down the steps leading out of the castle. It was still nice weather out, and it really did feel good to take in deep breaths of the fall air. His thoughts still were mostly centered on what Hermione had just told him. Why hadn't anyone told him? Harry supposed she was right; who would have thought he'd turn out to be gay?

That was another thing; was he? Aside from Cho, he'd never had an interest in women, but he could think back and notice all the attractive features of several men in Hogwarts. He'd always watched the older boys when playing Quidditch, and then never tried to copy their moves, since he had apparently been looking elsewhere at those times. He sighed heavily to himself, expelling the cool air he'd drawn in.

Looking down, he noticed the grass had lost a bit of it's lush green color due to the waning season, and it was just beginning to frost up a bit, though it still looked very rich, like you could lay down in it and feel just like lying down in a nice soft fluffy bed. With little blades of grass poking you. He wondered if he had felt them on his skin when Draco had pressed him into the grass...

Perhaps everyone who had been responsible for teaching him about what he really was had mentioned it in brief passing, but he'd never listened. He was sure his relatives hadn't told him, probably not having a clue, either. Why should they, being Muggles? They'd most likely think a male being with child was as unnatural as with being a wizard, though amplified.

Harry kept walking, watching the grass. He had no particular direction in mind, though he made sure he didn't walk straight to Hagrid's hut. Harry wasn't really up for a talk with his friend. He barely realized when a shadow fell into his path, and he was about to look up, careful not to run into a tree. Harry trailed his eyes ahead as he tilted his head up. He saw feet. Black, worn dragon hide boots, with an equally black robe cascading over their tops, hiding them from view.

He grimaced as he thought of how high up the boots might go, but he decided he really didn't want to think of that, especially on this particular person. Harry looked up to see Snape standing before him, hands in his pockets, looking for all the world like he was just out for a stroll himself. "Er," Harry let slip, confused at the look on Snape's face. He had the sort of blankly amused expression Dumbledore got when he was playing with his crayons, though Snape added a bit of a constipated look to it. "Professor?"

Snape contorted his face at the prompt, now looking more like his usual self, yet with still another unfamiliar feature. Harry would have guessed... sympathy? Pity? He would assume the latter, since he didn't often believe Snape of sympathizing with anyone, or thing, for that matter. Maybe his favorite cauldron if he accidentally burned a hole through the bottom of it, but that would be a bit creepy to see Snape crooning to a cauldron, rubbing around the edges of the corroded hole.

The man cleared his throat, thankfully pulling Harry from more disturbing thoughts about his least favorite teacher. Snape looked down at the boy, still trying to figure out how to break this to him. Despite the time he'd spent thinking on it, he'd seemed to find himself back at square one. Straightening to his full height, almost six inches above the Gryffindor, he started in as good of a place as any. "I need a word with you, Mr. Potter," he said, in a tone that let Harry know this was an order, not a request. "Walk with me," Snape added, turning on his heel.

Harry immediately looked in the direction Snape was heading. Towards the far edge of the Forbidden Forest, the opposite side that he was at least somewhat familiar with. There were undoubtedly certain animals that lived in specific pockets of the Forest, and Harry really hoped Snape wasn't going to take them inside. He hadn't even checked to see if Harry was following, simply striding away, hands in his pockets, robe flowing smoothly behind him.

The Gryffindor frowned after his teacher, and began to follow, though not quite eager to do so. Harry knew Snape wouldn't do anything rash to him, at least not in broad daylight. He sighed again, catching up with his teacher. When he closed off the head start that Snape had gained, he slowed down, and stopped just a few feet away from the Potions master. Snape had stopped, though not turned around before he spoke. "Have you been feeling differently, or unusual, lately?"

Snape turned around slowly, crossing his arms over his chest as he did so. He looked at Harry with a calculating look, as if he made perfect sense in what he was asking. A moment went by, and Snape seemed to become more annoyed as seconds ticked by, so Harry didn't really think he had a choice but to answer, so he did. "I've been tired?" he offered, and Snape raised an eyebrow, daring him to say more.

Harry frowned at him as he continued. "Well, I've had a lot on my mind the past few days. Nothing odd about that, is there?" he asked snidely, crossing his own arms and staring back at his professor. That wasn't a good idea. Not even ten seconds later, Harry uncrossed his arms and hung them to his sides, and that wasn't good either. He started fidgeting. Harry had become vaguely familiar with Snape when he'd worked with him against Voldemort and the Death Eaters, but they'd never crossed this line into questioning on how they felt personally.

It was almost like Snape dragged him out for a Sunday stroll and to have a nice chat, and that certainly wasn't what brought this about. The only time he could remember Snape asking how he felt was during his brief Occlumency lessons, even though they hadn't gone over very well, especially after seeing his father. He didn't blame his father and his friends for how they'd treated Snape when they'd been in school together; he _was_ an ugly git.

Snape inclined his head, looking down his hooked nose at Harry. "Hmm," was all he intoned. He supposed Potter wasn't very far along, or he may have voiced a few more symptoms. Of course, each pregnancy was different, and even more so for wizards. He made a mental note to look that up one of these days. Meeting the boy's eyes again, "Po - Harry," he began, correcting himself. He ignored Harry's surprised look at the change. "Did you happen to notice anything at all different about yourself?"

Harry shook his head slowly as if he was still combing through his mind for anything else. Snape frowned, but soon the amused look was back, though not as strong as it was earlier. "You're pregnant," Snape blurted out, glad to have said it, but annoyed at himself at the inarticulate way he'd done it. It was true he didn't particularly like the boy, but when it came down to it, this was too touchy of a subject to add even a bit more of his usual harassment to it. Bluntly was the only way he could broach the subject without the two of them standing outside all day long.

Harry's eyes widened suddenly, almost before his mind even managed to comprehend what Snape had said. He simply stared incredulously at his Potions master. He took a breath, "I..." and the breath came right back out again, carrying no words out with it at all. "What... how?" He started to stutter, trying to ask or say too many things at once, ending up with his mouth working like a fish's.

What an amazing bit of timing Hermione had for breaking the possibility to him only half an hour before Snape confirmed just what she'd said. How would Snape have even found out? He really didn't want to think about that, either, hoping to Merlin that his teacher didn't have some twisted perversion of watching his students' sex lives.

The professor gave a drawn out sigh. "Mr. Potter, I'm quite sure no one's told you of the possibility that this could happen, especially living with those Muggle relatives of yours..." he trailed off, shaking his head at the thought of any wizard being able to co-inhabit the same dwelling as Muggles. "But believe me, Harry," he said, starting to sound almost angry, "it is true. Someone even had the audacity to, shall we say, leave evidence of their sexual activities on my desk."

Harry's jaw went completely slack now, and he knew how Snape had found out, but - how did he know _who_ it was? He seriously didn't think Snape would ask Harry, who was not even close to the top ten students in Potions, to help him find out. No, he knew it had been Harry. "And," he continued, "I had wanted to know who would be so crude as to do such a thing." He narrowed his eyes and looked expectantly at Harry. Harry closed his mouth and swallowed, looking away from his teacher.

"You see, Potter," Snape drawled condescendingly, "There is a little spell that upon when whomever passes through the perimeter, allows the brewer to see the sexual auras of those who have entered." Harry paled at that, again finding himself staring at his teacher. He opened his mouth once again to deny... something. He hadn't forgotten, his thoughts simply decided to go on holiday at that exact moment, and he was left with nothing to say, though wanting to swish his fists through the air if nothing else.

"Do not insult my intelligence by claiming you have no idea what I'm speaking of, Potter." Harry looked away and closed his mouth this time, just in time to stifle a small dry heave. After that, he felt another wave of dizziness wash past his eyes, and thankfully his senses came back in time to tell him so helpfully that he might be sick in the next few minutes. Snape either didn't notice his predicament, currently spouting on about the one he'd unfortunately found out about, or chose to ignore it. "As I was saying," he went on when Harry seemed to recover slightly, "the potion allows me to see exactly who, or _what_ ," he paused, pursing his lips and hoping he didn't become ill himself after drudging that thought up again. "Yes," he started again. "It allows me to see exactly who a person was sleeping with recently.

"I know about you and Malfoy, but that is not why we're here today." Snape frowned, creasing his brow as he tried to keep himself to bluntly explaining this to the boy. "I saw inside you, a second aura." Harry looked blank, and not quite focused, but the attentive look on the boy's face expressed that he was, indeed, listening. "Now, I thought that you were taking after Ms. Parkinson and going through the student body like a fish through water, but the aura you are currently carrying had no name or identity whatsoever." Harry began to sway at this, feeling even more dizzy. Snape pressed on, foreseeing what kind of turn Harry was going to take very soon.

"The only way an aura could be titled so, was if it was a brand new being. The only way that could happen is if it was in the process of growing." He looked at Harry, no ulterior emotion laid upon his features for the moment, and decided to go on. Harry looked like he'd stabilized and that he wasn't going to regurgitate his breakfast over Snape's boots. Or, at least that's what Snape hoped. "Now, what you're going to need to do from now on is..." It was Snape's turn to stop in mid sentence, mouth open. He never got a chance to finish his sentence, because, at that moment, Harry went down like a ton of bricks, much sooner than Snape had anticipated.

Severus sighed and shook his head at the lump of robes on the grass. "Oops," he said to himself under his breath, almost letting out a small chuckle, and covering it with a cough instead. He stooped down and worked his hands under the boy's knees and back, lifting him up. Snape carried him to the infirmary where he deposited him on an empty bed, completely ignoring Madam Pomfrey when she came bustling over, asking him a million questions at once.

@>*~

When Harry woke, he knew he was definitely not in his own bed. It didn't feel like it physically, and the air of the entire room was different. He opened his eyes slowly, frowning as he looked up to see the domed ceiling of the infirmary. "Shit," he said as he pushed himself up abruptly, and immediately wished he hadn't. Grabbing a hand to his stomach as a lurch of pain shot through him. No, not pain. He was hungry.

It was dark in the room, so he supposed it must be quite a while later now than it had been when... He thought about the last thing he remembered, and he could only suppose he'd collapsed. Snape had been about to explain to him what he should be doing, but he didn't get far, Harry recalled. Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands, propped up on his knees as he sat in the bed.

He willed the small headache away and he swung his legs over the side of the bed, pushing aside the covers. He reached for his glasses on the side table, and put them back on. "God damn it," he swore quietly, then sighed to himself. This just had to happen to him, didn't it? When he'd finally been having a life filled with mundane, trivial things, another fucking thing had to happen to him. If it wasn't some insane adventure or mystery, it was a personal crisis.

Stepping down off the bed, he realized he was still in his own clothes, not the standard hospital pajamas. Thank Merlin for that, Harry thought. He made to walk as fast as he could out of the room so as not to draw Madam Pomfrey's attention, but was stopped quickly. His eyes blurred and he grasped blindly for the bed he'd just vacated. He held firm until his vision cleared and then he bolted for the door.

When he was safely two corridors away, he slowed and kept on his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It would have been moderately better if Snape had been the only person to confront him today, but Ron and Hermione had made this a horrible day, and he'd certainly not forget it any time soon. He supposed he could have simply told them that it wasn't their damn business, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He'd never had anyone to tell things to in his life; Dudley didn't ever care, but when he'd met Ron, he'd made a friend for life.

Harry felt like he could share things with the other boy, and, over the years, Hermione as well. He didn't feel right not to tell them the truth when they asked. Technically, he remembered, he had lied once or twice to them, but he was rightly justified if this was the way they were going to react when they found out where he'd really been. Maybe he should just lock his trunk from now on and spend all day in the other side of the castle away from them but for when he couldn't help it.

No, he couldn't do that. They _were_ his friends, and he loved them for it. Overall, they'd made his life ten times more enjoyable than it had been before he'd met either of them, or before he came to Hogwarts. That didn't change the fact that Ron had completely screamed at him, though, and then acted like a spoiled child who didn't get extra cake, and then complained when he couldn't finish it when he was given more. He asked (well, Hermione more correctly inquired), so Harry had told him. If he didn't want to hear it, he shouldn't have asked.

He'd already passed the sleeping Fat Lady, having to tap on her picture to wake her up before he could pass. She was snoring again before the door even shut behind him, and Harry was on his way up the stairs to his dorm. It was filled with a dull light from the moon and he looked out at it as he crossed the room to his bed. The full moon was almost over.

Harry pulled open the curtain on his bed and sat down, taking off his shoes. He pulled his shirt off next and shivered at the cool air in the room. Harry stood and took a moment to right his comforter over his bed. The house-elves hadn't made beds today, it seemed. Wait - they had, but Ron had quite rudely mussed it up again when he'd rifled through his things for the map. Harry's eyes widened as he stepped out of his trousers: thank God that neither of his friends had decided to crash his and Draco's little party using his invisibility cloak.

Though they would have had to know who... crap. They _would_ have known who was in the room, but then they still wouldn't have known to say it. Even through the thick door, they'd still have been able to listen, perhaps hearing only muffled conversation, but still. Harry sat down on his bed again, not bothering to dig out his pajamas, opting just for sleeping in his boxers tonight. Pulling his blankets over himself, he closed his eyes, reveling in the blossoming warmth all around him. He opened his eyes as he adjusted his pillow, and looked out his open curtain. He spared a moment to glare at Ron's bed before reaching out to grab his curtain, swishing it shut aggressively.

@>*~

When Harry woke up the next morning he was still a bit tired, but he had to get up anyway. Best to wake up as much as he could before Potions; he didn't want Snape to make fun of him for falling asleep in his cauldron. He wondered if Snape would look at him any differently? Perhaps with disgust, because it was sort of disgusting how the teacher had found out. Harry sat up in his bed, swinging his legs down between the curtains before he pulled them open.

He was about to give a great sigh and stretch his arms over his head as he yawned, but Harry was stopped in his tracks. Ron had opened his curtains at the same time, and now they sat, trying not to stare at each other, but not seeming to be able to manage anything other than that. Ron looked away and stood up first, rolling his eyes as he walked to the end of his bed to where his trunk lay. Harry stood, and picked up his glasses from the table beside his bed as he did.

Ron, still without a word, pulled the shirt he slept in over his head and tossed it on his still open trunk before walking out of the room. Harry felt a chill run up his body and he remembered he'd only slept in his boxers. He usually didn't do that, rather to have the tails of his pajama shirt cover any evidence of arousing dreams than to have himself displayed to the rest of his roommates. Harry turned around and checked himself as he reached for his trousers.

It'd been a few nights since he'd remembered any of his dreams, but they weren't hard to picture in his head. They were all about Draco. Harry sighed as he slipped a t-shirt over his head. How was he going to talk to Draco, now? He doubted the Slytherin would want to talk to him after the way he'd stomped out of the room and slammed the door after himself. He had heard Draco swear, and hurried his pace as he'd gone down the hall. It was possible that Draco still cared, right? If he even cared at all to begin with, that was.

Harry let that yawn out now before he turned and went out the door, down to the boys' lavatory. He wasn't quite watching where he was going until he almost bumped into someone. He looked up and saw that it was Ron. They tried to shift to the side, though they both picked the same side. Then, they both moved, again, to the same side. Ron scowled and set his hands on Harry's shoulders, pushing him back to the other side while he stayed at the opposite. He turned his body and sidestepped around his friend, leaving Harry to feel a bit awkward standing in the hallway.

He shook his head, finishing his trek to the bathroom to get cleaned up. Ron had a bit of time to think over what all he'd heard the night before. He'd spent at least an hour laying in bed trying to fathom how Harry could even touch Malfoy in a way that wasn't aggressive. Though that line of thought led to some interesting mental images of Malfoy being tied down and beaten - for his own pleasure. Ron had shuddered and rolled over, trying to go to sleep. He had to concede that he wasn't happy about the situation, but he vowed to at least be civil towards his friend. It was Harry's life, after all. It wasn't Ron's fault if he screwed it up, and it certainly didn't mean he had to agree with Harry's choices.

By the time Ron finished getting ready for the day, tying his tie around his neck and then pulling his sweater on over top of it, Harry came back into the room. They both grabbed their robes and bags and headed downstairs. Hermione was already in the common room, and she watched as Harry came out of the stairwell. He noticed her eyes were definitely not focused on him when she smiled faintly. Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Ron smile back at her.

 _At least those two are okay,_ he thought, as he walked toward the portrait door. He wasn't annoyed with Hermione, really; he was more annoyed with Ron and how he reacted. He supposed he expected it, and he shouldn't dwell on it too long, but he didn't feel up to another confrontation with either of them again. Even with all that happened yesterday, he still couldn't believe what Snape had told him. He was starting to constantly feel tired, and he hadn't really been in the mood to eat, though his now growling stomach belied that thought. He didn't feel nauseous, but food just hadn't appealed to him much. So, some of what he'd felt made sense now.

He stopped at the door, waiting for his friends. This was the first day in a while that they'd actually be going down to breakfast together, and they all happened to be upset with each other, or maybe just him. Even though he wasn't really up for the usual chatter of his friends, he got the feeling they would be a bit subdued today. They were still his friends and he needed their support right now, so, with a little sigh to himself, he paused at the door and looked back to them.

Hermione had picked up her bag and slung it over her shoulder, turning towards the door. She shook her head to herself, hoping that the three of them would overcome this slight rift. She hated it even more when Ron and Harry fought. It was a bit disconcerting that they hardly acted like anything was wrong, since they both kept quiet about it, but she could always feel the difference.

Ron followed behind Hermione, though catching up to her side, and they slowed as they got to the door. Harry pushed it open and held it open for them to walk through and ahead of him. Hermione then wondered if the three of them would even walk together or go their separate ways to the Great Hall. Ron kept walking, not stopping to look at Harry, or thank him for holding the portrait. Hermione frowned and thanked Harry herself, though she noted that he stayed behind them.

As she took a few more rapid steps to catch up with Ron, she wondered vaguely if Harry would take off in the other direction to go find Malfoy. She hadn't been blind, and she did notice that Harry didn't particularly look happy about what had went on in his secret excursion before Ron had got his knickers in a twist. And, knowing that, she didn't think Harry would do that; he'd just go straight to the Hall, in his mopey sort of way he was when something too heavy handed perched on his shoulders.

Hermione nudged Ron lightly in the ribs, though it was hard to do without jabbing him a little harder than was her intention, because they were still walking down the hall; she got his attention, though. "What?" Ron asked, a curious look on his face as he rubbed his side.

She turned to look at Ron and nodded her head back towards Harry, who was, indeed, trudging along a ways behind them, looking sad. "You guys need to put this behind you and move on. Harry knows what he's doing and we should support him," she whispered to Ron, hoping Harry didn't hear her. The last thing they needed was to be talking about this behind each other's backs again, but she didn't want to start too serious of a discussion this early in the morning. Even if they were on the outs with each other right now, Hermione knew they'd band together to duct tape her mouth shut if she even tried.

Ron pursed his lips in thought, trying not to say something he'd regret. It was hard, but he came up with something neutral. "We'll see," he said, turning the corner and starting down the stairs. "I still don't like who he's shagging, and not only that, he could very well be up the duft for all we know." He made a face at that, clearly not thinking that was too pleasant; it wasn't, but still.

"We don't know that for sure, Ron," she reminded him. "Wouldn't he be showing the symptoms by now?" Hermione questioned, starting to slow down so that Harry wasn't so much behind them. He probably knew they were talking about him, but, oh, well. Ron, however, didn't seem to care who overheard them, even if it was Harry, or Snape, for all he was being cautious.

Ron slowed unconsciously to stay by Hermione's side. He almost wanted to grab her hand to moderate her pace, wondering why she had dropped back. Though he didn't think he'd let go if he did that. He did know that he walked a bit faster than her because of his longer legs, but he could walk slower for her. "That's a good point," he admitted after a moment, "but we don't know how long the two of them have been going at it, and you heard what Harry said!"

"Yes," Hermione started, shushing him with a look. "They weren't using protection. They could have been using a contraceptive spell or potion, but, yes, I remember what Harry said." Harry wasn't too far behind them now, and they were almost to the Hall. "He hadn't even known that wizards could get pregnant, and I doubt Malfoy would have let him in on that piece of information."

"Yeah, him being the twat that he is," Ron said, tone misleading but with annoyance still clear in his voice, as he did enjoy insulting Malfoy, despite the current situation between him and his best friend. Harry caught up with the two of them, and the three of them catching up collectively to the group of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws filing through the open doors to the Great Hall.

Their conversation halted for the time being, as they headed towards their house table, to their usual spots. Harry eyed his friends from behind as they walked before him. It was kind of hard to think they weren't talking about him. He was used to it, though, being a kind of celebrity. _But, argh, don't remind me of that,_ Harry thought. He had a hard enough time with his life without all that other stuff to drag him down.

Other than their quiet almost whispered conversation as they walked down the halls, it was silent. Harry paid more attention to his grumbling stomach, and he was grateful it was breakfast, since he just wanted to get something to eat before he keeled over. Even with everything else, he was happy his previously absent appetite had returned. Taking their seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry could feel himself start to salivate over all the wonderful smells that were to come.

He had a hard time not closing his eyes and licking his lips, just imagining all the delicious foods that were ready to pop up onto their table. "Good morning to you all," Dumbledore began, scanning the tables vaguely with his eyes. Harry opened his eyes, surprised that he hadn't even realized that he had, but he was still tired, too. "In light of certain unforeseen events, Potions classes will be cancelled this week, or until further notice as Professor Snape has gone on an errand that could not be rescheduled. During regular Potions classes, you may either retire to your dormitorys until the next class begins, or study in the library."

The old wizard nodded to the Hall in general, and seated himself in his chair at the center of the staff table at the head of the room. When Dumbledore had situated himself, the food appeared on the tables, and Harry wondered if the Headmaster had some sort of button up there under the table to tell the house-elves when to send breakfast up. Many students turned to their neighbors to gossip about why Snape had left, though more were concerned with what they'd do in their newly instated free time, while others took the time to do little victory dances in their seats, trying in vain to refrain from shouting with joy.

Harry sighed to himself, partly in favor of no Potions classes, and partly for the food laid out in front of him. Oh, and it was even better than he was imagining. Reaching for his favorite, he pulled the bowl of porridge towards his plates, gripping his spoon like it might disappear from his very sight if he didn't begin to eat very soon. He really hadn't been looking forward to sitting in the dungeons for two hours, facing the man who knew more about him than he did himself. Of course, he didn't know exactly what he'd do with his free period, and was almost wishing they did have Potions, so he wouldn't have to actively seek out Draco wherever he might wander off to in the castle with two hours of free time.

He supposed the other boy would just go back to the dungeons and do something there. He didn't often see Draco out on the lawns, or hear anyone talk about how crappy he played at Quidditch practice. To be honest, he really didn't know what Draco did with his time, and that didn't comfort Harry at all. It made him want to find out. But, back to the present; he still wasn't feeling a hundred percent, and wasn't sure if he'd get up in time for class if he were to go back to the dorms for a nap.

Out of the corner of his eye, the only part of himself that wasn't focused on food, he noticed Neville watching him while he chewed on a piece of toast. Harry stopped, swallowed and asked, "What?" Not defensively, just wondering what he'd done to attract the other boy's attention.

Neville smiled at him and swallowed his own mouthful. "I'm just happy to see you eating is all," he said. "I was beginning to worry about you; this past week you hadn't eaten much that I saw, and I thought you might have been ill. I didn't want to pry, so I didn't say anything." That was so typically... Neville. Most people underestimated the boy, but he was really intuitive sometimes, not to mention observant.

Harry smiled back, glad to know someone cared about him without nagging about it. Neville resumed eating when he did, and Harry decided after a minute that he'd successfully dislodged his roommate's curiosity. He sat up straight, stretching his back and faintly heard a little crack in it as he used the movement to look up and across the Ravenclaw table to see if he could spot Draco on the other side of it. He couldn't see him anywhere at the Slytherin table, so he turned his attention back to his food.

It was still a bit early, and Draco might not have made it to the Hall yet. It really was a long way from the dungeons after you factored in all the twisting halls and everything in the lower floor, despite it being only one floor away from the Great Hall. He looked once more, trying to spot the blond, and when he looked back to his own table, he saw Ron look away quickly. He supposed he didn't have to hide the fact from his friends that he was looking for Draco anymore.

Stupid Draco, Harry thought. How could he not know about this? He felt like walking up to the blond when he found him, and kicking him in the balls for being such an idiot. Harry tried to push those thoughts out of his head so he could enjoy his breakfast in peace. He hoped to at least drown his problems in the various liquid or partially liquid substances that littered the surface of the table.

After breakfast, everyone started to go their separate ways; some went to the library, some to their dorms. A few went outside just to sit around and talk or play games, taking advantage of the weather before it began to snow, until their next classes began. Harry got up with the other Gryffindors from his year and made his way out of the Hall. He'd calmed down a bit and had made up his mind. He had to tell Draco, sooner than later.

He didn't see the other boy in the crowd of shuffling students as they made for the door, but after he got into the hallway and they dispersed in different directions, Harry caught sight of a shock of light blond hair amidst the dark. He turned to see if Hermione and Ron were waiting for him, and they sort of got the idea from the look he supposed was on his face. Hermione nodded to him and grabbed Ron by the elbow and started to go the other way.

A few other people asked him what he was doing going the other way, the way in opposition to the halls back to Gryffindor Tower, but he shrugged them off with the excuse of going for a walk around the castle before heading back to get his books for the class he had after Potions. He began to head after Draco, though he had to rethink the situation. He was in a hall filled with Ravenclaws, a few Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins. Barely a Gryffindor was in sight, but there were a few. How was he supposed to get Draco's attention and pull him off to the side to talk in this crowd?

Harry sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked down the hall, trying to look like he was simply wandering around on a stroll to waste the time away. A couple passing students that recognized him gave him odd looks, but he ignored them. He was slowly coming closer to where Draco was walking with his friends. Harry couldn't hear the other boy's voice over the others' echoing around the hall, but he still kept up, though not too close as to be suspicious.

He kept his eyes on Draco, and was both glad and worried that the students in the hall were slowly dispersing, leaving not as much cover for him as there previously was. He was suddenly rethinking his decision to tag along behind a group of Slytherins, most of which hated him. He swallowed, and slowed a bit to gain a bit more distance between them again. He almost stopped entirely when laughter bubbled up from the group, and Draco turned his head to say something, most likely derogatory, to Crabbe, but Harry was surprised when Draco turned his head further around looking behind himself for Merlin knows why.

Draco's frown at the stupid joke Crabbe told completely dropped off his face when he saw something that he really didn't think he should be seeing in the corner of his eye. He turned his head back more, to look behind himself, and his eyes widened almost imperceptively when he saw Harry. But Harry noticed, and he almost expected Draco to turn around, bringing his whole group with him, and start a fight with Harry.

Harry almost held his breath for a minute or two as he watched the blond begin talking about something he couldn't hear. Harry was about ready to give up and turn around when he saw Draco break off from the rest of the Slytherins. They didn't seem to follow him, and Harry frowned, wondering where Draco was going. Should he keep following, or was Draco trying to get away from him? If he was, it really didn't seem like it. If he wanted Harry to bugger off, he would have stayed with the rest of his classmates, not wander off to the loo by himself.

When Harry caught up and turned down the same corridor that Draco had, he didn't see anyone else down it at all. Draco listened to the second set of footsteps predictably follow after his own. "Wait," he heard behind him, feeling a hand on his shoulder, gently turning him around to face the other boy. Harry closed his eyes as he swallowed, still a bit tired from all the revelations of the day before, and he wondered if he was really up to this.

"What, Harry? Come to slam another door in my face?" he asked sarcastically, making for the lavatory that, indeed, was down this hall. Draco made to turn back around, not wanting to have this conversation. He was having a hard time getting Harry out of his head, and seeing him around school wasn't helping. Even if they only had two classes together, it seemed like a lot, combined with Draco's seemingly new habit of watching for Harry wherever he went. He'd stayed well out of sight in the Great Hall, knowing that one of them would try to look for the other.

"It's important," Harry pleaded, following Draco, and taking a few quick steps so that he was beside the Slytherin as they walked down the hall. They turned around another corner and stopped; there was no one else around, and Draco crossed his arms as he waited expectantly for Harry to tell him what was so important. He didn't expect this to take long, so they had no need to find a secluded room to spend some time having a conversation in. It seemed that even if they shagged each other every five minutes, they still couldn't have a conversation without it turning into a row.

"I'm pregnant."

Draco didn't move at all, and still held the irritated expression on his face, though it seemed confusion was starting to break through. He simply stared back at the other boy, face starting to go blank, and Harry watched as Draco's lips tried to form various positions, as if he was trying to say something. All that ended up coming out was a weak, "puh.." that was barely audible, though sounding suspiciously like a scoff to Harry. Draco didn't say anything else after that, and he uncrossed his arms and walked away, leaving Harry to stand there in silence, watching him leave.

And that's what Harry did, all he _could_ do at the moment. He watched Draco walk down the corridor, though without the usual, assured stride. Harry stepped back until he felt the cold stone of the wall against his back; he could feel it even through his robes. He'd just walked away, like he didn't care at all. Like he was disgusted with me, Harry added in his head. He slowly slid down the wall, bringing his knees up to his chest as he slouched down against it. He wrapped his arms around his legs and set his chin on his knee, staring blankly at the cracks in the floor as he wondered what he had done to deserve such a horrible life.

@>*~

The only thing Draco could do right now was keep walking. He'd had no idea what ungodly reason Harry would follow him straight into Slytherin territory for, but he decided to save the other boy the trouble of getting caught. He wasn't ready to talk to Harry about what had happened, having no idea what the hell he'd say anyway. Draco had made an excuse and started down another hall, knowing that Harry would come running after him.

When he'd heard what Harry said, he immediately wished he'd stayed with the group instead of making time for the Gryffindor. He couldn't even respond, not knowing what he should say. So, all he could do was turn and walk away from it, leaving an undoubtedly upset Harry in his wake. What could he have said, anyway? That he was such an idiot not to think of that before, or be an arse and tell Harry that it wasn't his problem?

Draco slammed the door shut to the Slytherin dormitory, not caring if it startled anyone or not. He'd never had to be ginger with anything before, and no one would say a word to him about it anyway. He sneered at a few of his house mates that turned to stare at him, and they quickly looked away as he stalked by them. He was glad Blaise wasn't in their room when he went inside, slamming that door, too. Draco slumped himself down on his bed, wondering what he was going to do.

@>*~

Harry had managed to escape from the wrong side of the castle without too much confrontation. A Ravenclaw Prefect had stopped him, but his excuse of going for a walk seemed to be acceptable, even though she had raised an eyebrow, and he had made off down the hall as quickly as he could. His mind was reeling, and all he really wanted to do was to have that nap. Maybe he could start over, and pretend he never told Draco anything, or at least not have told him the way he did.

He didn't think he'd make it through Herbology, and when that was over, he still wondered how he'd managed to answer any of Professor Sprout's questions. She seemed to think his leaning over the table, head propped up on his elbow, trying to keep his eyes open was him paying attention to her. Well, he supposed he was trying to do that instead of falling asleep, or letting his mind drift off to things he'd rather not think about right now. By the time lunch rolled around, he was hungry again, and was glad for the break.

It seemed like they hadn't had two hours off during the time when they should have had Potions, or at least it felt that way to Harry. He and Hermione had made it to the table and sat down, waiting for Ron. He'd had some trouble with his plant, it having twisted its way from its pot to inhabit a nearby watering can, poking Ron's fingers when he tried to pull it out. There didn't seem to be any announcements, so the food appeared, and they started into their midday meal.

Ron trudged in not a minute later, holding a bandaged hand. Harry felt bad he didn't stay to help, but was still glad his fingers weren't bleeding. Ron sat down and made a pained face at his friends before picking up his fork. "Uhm," he said a moment later, drawing both his friends' attention.

Hermione frowned, unused to seeing Ron holding a fork with not a bit of food on it. "What is it?" she asked, and Harry looked at him after putting a slice of ham on his plate.

"It's a letter... to Harry," he said, sounding quite confused as he picked it up off the table and handed it across to his friend. Harry looked at it, and took it from Ron when he passed it over the table. Quickly, Harry looked around them, and no one else seemed to be watching. Sure enough, it did have his name on it: H. Potter.

He slid his finger under the blank seal, popping it open and sliding out the piece of parchment that was inside. The first thing he did was look to the bottom, where there was an ornate capital D. Harry tried not to smile; Draco must have come over to the Gryffindor table and put the note under the fork, simply assuming Harry would have sat there. Well, he was close, Harry thought. Though somehow he couldn't picture Draco watching him from across the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry read. They shared a look with each other, already knowing who it would have been from. "He wants to talk to me," Harry said quietly, careful not to mention who, exactly. He folded the note and slipped it back into the envelope, which he reached around and shoved into his bag. "I talked to him earlier, and he just... walked away."

Ron scoffed and Hermione threw a pea at him, having been dishing up her lunch while Ron glared at the note while Harry read. Ron mumbled something and started to gather food to his plate as well. "Um," Harry started as he sat up from his seat, stepping over the bench and hefting his book bag back on his shoulder. "I'll meet you guys here before class starts, okay?"

They both nodded, not knowing what to say, but Hermione managed a, "See you later," as Harry left. They did understand that Harry didn't want anyone else to know, and they respected that. It really wasn't something that needed to be publicized. They were all still friends, even if it was a bit tense between them right now. They were glad Harry was being honest with them, and glad they knew where he was going, even if they didn't like it.

It felt to them as if Harry was back in their life more than he had been for the past couple weeks, and that was a good thing. They just hoped he wouldn't bring Malfoy back with him, imposing him more than he already was on them just by being in the same school. Harry grabbed a sandwich off a plate on his way down the table, squeezing his arm between Colin and Ginny to snatch it up. They were too busy looking at pictures to notice, and Harry made his way out the door, chewing as he went.

Draco was waiting in the Prefects' room, absently picking at a string hanging from the seam of a cushion that was sitting beside him on the couch. A lot of questions had gone through his mind during the time he'd had to think about things since this morning. One of the most ugly was, 'Is it mine?' It was actually the first to slip to the tip of his tongue after he'd made sure he heard Harry right, but he'd held it back.

He hadn't noticed Harry going around with any other guys, and believe him, he kept an eye on the other boy; he would have known. The only other students Harry spent time with were the Weasel and the Mudblood, and Draco was pretty sure those two fancied each other. That left it pretty clear for a fact that it couldn't be Weasley's. Draco grimaced, not caring at all to think of Ron's sex life, if he even had one.

That only left him, and he wasn't prepared for this at all. Draco sighed, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand, propped on his elbow on the arm of the couch. It was bad news on the whole, and he really didn't know what to say. He'd never been speechless in his life, and it was bothering him. Harry probably wondered if Draco thought he was joking, or if he simply didn't care.

Leave it to Potter to think he didn't care. Well, why should he? It wasn't his problem, not really. Okay, so maybe it was his problem. It was his child, too, and if Harry wanted to keep it, and Draco denied the allegations, there were ways in proving him wrong. He hated being proved wrong, and it was as rare of an occurrence as he could keep it.

Draco's head snapped up when he heard the latch click on the door, and saw Harry push it open and step into the room. He sat up on the couch, and he watched Harry walk into the room, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the strap of his bag. Harry's eyes barely left Draco's as he came into the room, coming to sit down on the other end of the couch from the blond.

"So," Harry said, setting his bag down in front of him, but keeping the strap in his hands for something to fidget with. He was surprised, quite frankly, that Draco wanted to talk to him. They'd had a perfectly good chance earlier, and Draco had blown him off. And that was a really bad mental image, Harry thought, though he had to wonder if they'd ever get that far in any type of relationship to experience that sort of thing. Back to the point, Harry reminded himself.

Draco cleared his throat sharply, before asking, "How did this happen?" He didn't look at Harry, but watched the other boy's hands on the strap of his bag, picking at the edge.

"I didn't know," Harry said quietly, giving a small shrug, though since he was staring at the floor now, he had no idea whether Draco had seen the movement or not. Draco looked up, though, confused, and Harry continued. "That it could happen."

"How could you not know?" Draco asked, thinking maybe he'd started to overestimate Potter on his intelligence. He had to admit he didn't know much about Harry, but he did know he grew up with Muggles, and that they didn't teach him a damn thing; supposedly, they didn't even tell him he was a wizard. Draco could barely fathom living with Muggles, or not knowing what you are, or could be.

Harry just shrugged, watching Draco seem to understand. The blond nodded and leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms loosely over his chest. To be honest, the possibility never entered his mind more than once, and that once was when he had been slumped over Harry's back, cock still inside the other boy. A moment of sentimentality, he supposed, which he quickly dismissed, thinking that Harry would be smart enough to use some type of contraceptive. Even Muggles had them, so Harry couldn't have been that stupid.

Again, Draco fought the urge to ask if it was his, but the reality finally hit him. This was his child. It was a strange feeling, though nothing felt that different. It was like a new knowledge that did the opposite of what the meaning of knowledge was. It gave Draco a numb sort of feeling, but that could have been the fact that it simply hadn't sunk in yet.

"What are we going to do?"

Draco barely heard Harry's question, falling too deeply into his own thoughts. They couldn't really abort now, even if Harry would do it, which Draco knew he wouldn't. Neither of them were prepared for this, but it was too late now. He couldn't get rid of it, he couldn't kill something like that; that was murder. Despite what his father had in mind for him, and at that, Draco scowled at the thought, he couldn't kill something like that.

They needed help, Draco thought. He brought a hand up to rub at his eyes, trying to think of what their options were. Who could they tell? He didn't want this getting out, though he'd be praised for taking Potter down a notch by buggering him, but there was a whole other side to that. If the Death Eaters found out anything about this, they'd use Draco as a ploy to capture Harry. He knew that for a fact, and he also knew that every time he left the school, he was watched by order of his dearly incarcerated father. He knew many Slytherins that kept tabs on Harry for their parents in the Dark Circles.

"Bloody hell," Draco said, sitting forward again, and resting his arms on his legs, looking towards Harry again. Harry had about as many ideas as Draco did. He was still trying to deal with being the one carrying a child, not just wondering what he was going to do. Harry looked back at Draco and didn't have to try hard to feel bad about the situation. At least Draco didn't seem to be too angry with him. That might have been what was making Harry uneasy right now; usually when he ticked Draco off, the other boy started some sort of fight. Though, what was he supposed to do now, make sick jokes about coat hangers? "Who can we talk to about this?"

Oh, thank Merlin one of them said something, putting gore and blood filled thoughts out of his head, though he knew Draco still could have meant it in the way of, 'Who can we talk to about this, so we can get rid of it?' Harry shrugged again, and sighed, feeling very unhelpful right now, but - wait. "Snape," Harry said suddenly.

"Snape?" Draco repeated, sounding almost surprised, before looking quite angry, Harry noted. "He isn't even here! We can't honestly wait too long on this, Harry." Harry nodded, knowing that, even though the consequences or options really hadn't settled in his mind yet.

"I don't want to tell anyone else. McGonagall would tell Dumbledore, and I'd rather not," have him be disappointed in me, Harry was about to say, or something like that, but he held it back, finishing with, "have him know." Harry didn't want to upset Draco any more than he seemed to already be. No, the Slytherin was more distressed than upset. Upset just didn't seem to be a word that suited Draco.

Harry sighed, it seemed he couldn't go more than half a year or, if he was lucky, a bit more, before getting into some sort of mess. Maybe if he asked Dumbledore where Snape went, he could somehow contact the Potions master. He didn't know what else to say, and he had to get back to the Great Hall. He didn't even want to think about telling Hermione and Ron about his... more personal situation. Harry was still having a hard time thinking that there was a baby inside of him.

"Great," he heard Draco say, more to himself than to Harry. "Just great." Draco squeezed his hands into fists, wanting to yell, or scream, or kick something really hard. Perhaps when Snape gets back, he'd kick him in the groin, though that might earn him some rather nasty tasks for the detention that particular act would give him.

They sat in silence for a moment before they heard the bell ring in the hall outside of the room. It signaled the end of their lunch break, and there was ten minutes to get to their next class before they would be termed late. They both stood up at the same time, and then looked at each other, sort of unsure of how they should part ways for the time being. They couldn't very well give each other a nice peck on the lips, could they? From the look on Draco's face, Harry really didn't think so. He opted for mumbling a, "Bye," and walked to the door. Draco followed a few feet behind, and Harry heard him shut the door after he'd left, but only heard a few footsteps. Harry turned around, but Draco had already disappeared down another hall, or, for all he knew, into another secret Slytherin passage.

@>*~

He'd made it back in time to catch up with Hermione and Ron before he lost them in the hallways, and they made their way up to Charms. It had been arranged that they'd have extra Charms classes when Professor Lupin was indisposed. There had been a vote for what class everyone would rather have, and Potions came in a great smacking last, with only two votes from Merlin knew who. Snape could have voted for himself. Twice. That was the only one they knew who would be nutty enough to want more time in Potions.

When it came down to it, it was between Transfiguration and Charms, and the latter won out, because McGonagall had came to one of the voting sessions with extra lesson plans. That certainly didn't win her many votes, especially since most students were hoping for basically free time. Harry sat between his friends at a table about half way into the room. They weren't right at the front, and weren't right at the back, so it wasn't too conspicuous, which Harry was thankful for. He still didn't feel much up for conversations lasting longer than three sentences, but he'd relaxed a bit through the class.

Telling Draco had lifted a bit of weight from his shoulders, but it seemed to only settle in his stomach, making him wonder about other things. Like, what were they going to do? That was, if Draco even wanted it, or him, for that matter. It still didn't feel right to say "baby", since the concept hadn't quite sunk in, yet, but it was getting there. As lucky as he was to have friends like his, they'd seemed to calm down over the matter, though there was still noticeable tension.

Never did Harry think they'd not want to be friends with him anymore, but when he got up into his dorm that day to find out they knew, he had to admit it had been the first thing that came to mind. Even if he was sleeping with the enemy, they were still by his side, despite not agreeing. Harry was busying himself by drawing spirals in the margins of his papers, happy to be in Charms, and even happier it was the last class of the day. Learning was too much to comprehend at the moment, and he frowned at the half assed notes he'd managed to take during the course of the class.

One good thing about extra Charms classes every month, they had less work to do in each individual class, which allowed more time for goofing off, if one so chose. Knowing that, Harry wondered why he was even trying to pay attention to what Professor Flitwick was saying. Since his mind was on other things, none of which remotely concerned Charms, he was glad to have good enough marks in Charms (an E average) that he didn't have to be all there during classes.

He already thought he'd do well enough on his NEWTs, but if he got a bad mark on anything, it would be Herbology. Harry almost grinned to himself at taking tutoring from Neville, who really was at the top of their Herbology class with an O average. Transfiguration wouldn't be too hard, and Defense Against the Dark Arts would definitely be easy for Harry. He'd already been taught a lot of the spells before they were introduced in class due to his occasional extracurricular training for the war.

It wasn't much of a war, though, Harry thought. And if it ever escalated to what he'd heard about the Muggle wars (though he'd also found out that a lot of those leaders were Dark wizards), he thought he could handle it. He'd already successfully won duels with Voldemort, and he knew considerably less than the Dark wizard. It sometimes made him wonder if the Dark Lord had no life at all, and had to get his kicks from attacking Harry year after year. What was the point, really?

Harry didn't see such an alluring coating on the power that so many wizards and Muggles alike sought after. All he saw was red tape and stress, and that wasn't worth it to Harry, but maybe that was what he secretly was striving for in his extra defense training. He wanted power underneath his good intentions, but it was undoubtedly a power struggle. No matter who won in the end, one of them, Harry or Voldemort, would have power. Over who, and what they chose to do with said power, that was what mattered, not that power was the problem.

Bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he yawned was what he'd planned on doing, but when he'd opened his mouth, trying to let the air out, he felt a sickening taste slide up into his mouth. Harry gagged, and covered his mouth for an entirely different reason. Ron looked at him and brought a hand up and slapped him gently on the back, not really knowing something was wrong, just as more of a type of reassuring gesture. It really didn't help.

Harry shot his other hand up into the air, trying to swallow as another bit of vomit tried to lurch up his throat. "Yes, Harry?" he heard Professor Flitwick ask him. He tried to swallow, and slowly lowered his hand, and the one covering his mouth.

"Harry?"

Hermione asked quietly beside him, trying to turn him by his shoulder to look at her; he'd drawn the whole class' attention. Merlin, he hated when that happened. He would have sighed, but feared that he'd make a mess of Hermione's hair, makeup, lap, books and anything else in the immediate vicinity of his mouth. He managed to swallow, and he looked up at the front of the room, where Professor Flitwick was starting to hop down off of his desk to come and find out what was wrong. "Sir?" Harry began unsteadily. The teacher nodded, allowing Harry the floor. "May I be excused?"

"Oh! Certainly, Harry. Certainly." Professor Flitwick gestured towards the door, tottering back to his desk, still motioning for Harry to go ahead. Harry stood, stomach lurching as he did so in such a rapid fashion, and he swallowed again, trying to hold back the bile beginning to rise in his throat. He was eternally grateful that he wasn't in Potions right now, or else Snape would have taken ten minutes deciding whether to let him go or not. Harry would have glared back at the man, got out of his seat, walked calmly to the front of the room, and heaved up the contents of his guts onto the hem of Snape's robes.

If he wasn't too sick, and was still overly cocky after tossing his cookies, he'd grab part of the Slytherin professor's robes and wipe his mouth with it before returning to his seat. Detention for sure, and Harry grimaced, holding his stomach as he finally made it to the door and out of the room. He didn't say a word as he left and now he was almost blindly making his way down the hall in a pretty much random direction that he hoped a lavatory would be located in. He spotted a drinking fountain up ahead, and was glad for it, a signal that a bathroom would be right beside it, like it was on most floors.

He'd walked through the open door and had walked around three shelves of books before he couldn't hold it any longer. He scrambled to make it to a waste basket before throwing up, letting the disgusting half digested mess come surging up his throat. He wanted to lick the chunks of whatever the hell it was out of his mouth where they were stuck up between his gums and cheek, but didn't want to taste it at all. He opted for wiggling his mouth around and then spitting a great gob of gook into the garbage before getting up and making his way out of the library.

Casually using his foot to slide the basket under a chair, Harry took the most likely route so as not to run into Madam Pince in one of the aisles, and found the door back into the main hallway. He turned down the right hand passage from the library, and wondered how he'd gotten four floors up from the dungeons. Definitely detention for this, he thought, starting down the first set of stairs he came to.

@>*~

Harry had made it down to the main floor, just near the Great Hall before he heard the bell ring, meaning the end of the class. Harry sighed, feeling much better after having stopped and had a drink. He did find a bathroom, did some business there, and went on his way. He was glad not to have to go back to class, and he turned around when the bell sounded, and headed back up the stairs to go back to Gryffindor Tower.

"Harry!"

He turned around, by now back on the second floor, and saw Hermione jogging to catch up with him, Ron walking quickly behind her, carrying a pile of books and Harry's bag. "Hi," he said, and when Ron caught up, he took his bag from the pile and slung it over his shoulder.

"Hi?" Hermione questioned, wondering if Harry was alright. "Are you okay? You never made it back to class."

"Yeah, I'm fine, just got a bit sick. Too much going on, it sort of twisted my stomach up, I guess." He shrugged, and Hermione looked sympathetic. She knew he was going through a lot, more than she could sometimes fathom, and supposed that she did take all that he had to do for granted, thinking he just took it in stride with no aftereffects. Draco wasn't making things any better, but that was Harry's decision.

"You look a bit pale," Ron said, hoping Harry wasn't still going to be sick, as he quite looked like it, in Ron's opinion. They didn't need to go find a house-elf to clean up puke from their dorms, or the carpet in the common room, for that matter. There had been a very nasty incident with some of Fred and George's Puking Pastilles; the Tower smelled like rotten cabbage for a week. "Maybe you should go see Madam Pomfrey," he said. Better in there than in the dorms, he thought.

Hermione nodded her agreement, but she didn't want to pry. Harry didn't look very well, but he could just need some sleep, or for a load of his stress to be eliminated. She'd take some of it herself in a second, but she wasn't sure she could handle it. Her extra classes in third year were one thing, but she honestly had no idea what Harry did when he was gone with training cited as his excuse.

"Yeah, good idea," Harry said, rubbing his hair up off his forehead. It was a bit damp, but that could have been from the five sets of stairs he'd trekked up and down. "I'll get something to settle my stomach, and I'll come back to the Tower, unless she straps me down to a bed." Ron grinned and Hermione tried not to, though didn't quite manage. Madam Pomfrey was one of the best nurses in England, and she deserved respect, but maybe that was what had made her so snitty and bossy in the first place.

Harry turned down another hall when they came to it, and waved his friends off, who were giving him strange looks, though he was too far away by now to hear if they tried yelling something at him. The surrounding students were making too much noise, and Hermione sighed, shaking her head. "What on earth is he doing?" she asked Ron; the infirmary was in the opposite direction he was going.

"Well, it is Harry, and you know he's got a million shortcuts around the castle. Maybe there's one down there, instead of walking all the way to the west wing." He nudged her with his pile of his and Harry's books, and one of her's, and she started walking again, back to the common room. When Harry got to the end of the corridor he'd turned down, he frowned. Had he gone the wrong way? It didn't have the slowly growing sterile feeling (and smell) as it usually did when one was on their way to the hospital wing.

Harry held onto the strap over his shoulder, other hand in his pocket, and he turned down another hallway, the one that looked a lighter color than the other. It had seemed like a nice orange glow from the sunset through the windows, but it wasn't. It was a torch-lit hall with no windows at all, just the glow from the fire in the sconces, reflecting on the surface of a large golden statue of a gargoyle, set in an alcove in the wall.

Frowning at it for a moment, Harry remembered that it was the doorway to the Headmaster's chambers. Suddenly, the statue began to rotate on its base, and Harry looked around quickly, trying to find somewhere to hide. There was another statue of the four founders about three meters away from him, and he just made it behind the sculpture before he saw a swirl of deep green robes, watching as Professor McGonagall stepped from the alcove and made her way down the hall in the other direction as Harry was hiding.

Quickly, Harry ran to the gargoyle, and jumped up onto the spiral staircase before it stopped moving, hidden from view until the password was spoken. Right, the password, Harry thought. He'd forgotten that he probably knew it, and simply just snuck his way into this passage anyway. Well, at least he was good at one thing. When the stairs stopped turning, he stepped from them and they started up again, twisting until the gargoyle stood facing him, and Harry wondered how it managed to sit here, facing him, when it had sat facing him when he was in the hallway beneath the stairs.

Odd, he thought, but put that out of his mind, excusing it as simply a trick staircase, that really wasn't elevated at all, but just a charm to make it seem that way. Harry shook his head, completely not understanding the mechanics, and it didn't seem like he would unless he sat and stared and thought for a while, but that really wasn't what he wanted to do. While he was here anyway, he might as well ask.

He had wanted to speak to the Headmaster, and now that he found himself here, though, he almost didn't want to. He hadn't had any training results from various teachers to give to Dumbledore, so he hadn't been in the man's office for a while. He started towards the door to said office, but stopped, frowning as his hand was poised to knock on the door. How did he manage to find himself here? Wasn't he supposed to be in Charms?

Nevermind his destination was no where near his current location, Harry knocked. It was a moment before the door creaked open of its own accord, and Harry stepped inside, closing it behind himself. Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, a few books open, and a long quill, suspiciously looking as if it was recently plucked out of Fawkes' tail, in his hand as he marked various things down on a blank page of the book. Harry walked up to the desk, and looked down at the page. It was still blank, despite the quill clearly being inked, and Dumbledore's continued additions to the page.

With a flourish, Dumbledore seemed to place a period at the end of the page, and set his quill down. "Invisible to all but those who wish not to view them for unjust purposes, Harry," the old wizard explained, closing the book with the blank pages. It was a huge book, filled with many pages, and Harry saw on the spine 'Hogwarts Student Records Vol. 824'. "Now," Dumbledore said, pushing the book to the side and recapping his ink bottle. "How can I help you, Harry?"

Harry sat down in a chair in front of the Headmaster's desk, pulling his bag from his shoulder and setting it on the floor beside him. He looked to Dumbledore, who was peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, fingers laced as he sat his hands on top of the desk. "Sir, I was wondering if you could tell me where Professor Snape went?"

"Severus' current location is of no immediate concern to your studies, Harry," Dumbledore said calmly, though not sounding condescending. "Why would you wish to know such a thing?"

"It's important that I speak to him about... something," Harry said, unable to think of a better way to say... something. Why did he want to talk to Snape? He was ready to throw a small tantrum, but for what purpose? Snape was the only person who knew, and Draco would know what to do. They had to talk to Snape. He shouldn't act childish, but he was also tired of people keeping things from him.

Not that he absolutely needed to know this bit of information, but he could take care of himself when it came to knowledge. He could handle things, as he'd proved over the years, and yet not many seemed to give him credit for it; Dumbledore did on occasion, which was why Harry was here inquiring about Snape's whereabouts. "Are you sure this isn't something you could talk to me about? Or perhaps even Minerva?"

"No, sir. I don't think so." Oh, how embarrassed he was about to be right now if they didn't change the subject. Not that he could, since this was why he was here, not to just have idle chit-chat over tea with the Headmaster, who happens to be the greatest wizard in the world, could read your damn mind, and know exactly what you were up to before you had a chance to pee your pants at the sheer overwhelming quality of the situations Harry always seemed to find himself in.

He just had to not give Dumbledore too much of a reason to be suspicious. Dumbledore knew very well that Professor Snape and Harry disliked each other, and their relationship was less than positive even in the smallest encounters. Harry hated to disappoint Dumbledore, and they both knew that. It was good for Harry to take on things by himself, and not to rely on people who may not always be there in his times of need, regardless of whether they wished they could be or not.

Dumbledore sat, falling silent as he gazed at Harry, a calculating look crossing his face before he conceded. "Very well, Harry. You may find Professor Snape at the Castle of Durmstrang. Keep in mind that he is on a confidential mission directly sent by myself, and it is not to be compromised by letting that particular information out to anyone else."

Right, don't tell anyone. Harry nodded his acknowledgement at the request and made his way to the door. "Thank you, sir," he said before opening the door and walking out, never noticing that Dumbledore was smiling at him with a knowing expression. Dumbledore didn't think he should ever keep anything from Harry, but it was continuing to be tempting, again. Even though he knew he had potentially put Harry's and Draco's lives in danger, if they wanted to go, there was not much he could do to stop them, even if he told them they were being punted crudely in the direction of the Dark Lord.

@>*~

Later that night, Harry couldn't help but become restless. After getting back to Gryffindor Tower, he'd told his friends that as he was on his way to the infirmary, he'd felt better, so he turned around, and after two confusing hallways, he found himself back in the common room. Harry watched Ron try and teach Hermione to play wizards chess for the thousandth time, and it was enjoyable, and succeeded in taking Harry's mind off other things, but not for long.

When it was time for their evening meal, Harry focused on eating, and only looked for Draco once, before going back to the common room to start on his homework for the day. He hadn't had a class with Draco in the afternoon, and he felt like things were left unfinished between them, though that could just be from the way they parted. It didn't feel right to leave without something happening between them, like it usually did from their confrontations. It felt like something was missing, and Harry tried to squish those thoughts out of his head, to try and get some sleep.

It didn't work, and here he lay, restless and wide awake. He finished all of his homework, and helped Ron with his Astronomy paper before going up to bed, thinking he was tired enough and his brain overworked enough to just fall right asleep. Well, he'd been wrong, and all he could think about was a certain silver haired Slytherin. Harry got up and went to the end of his bed where his trunk was open, trousers strewn about it from where he'd tossed them before getting into bed. He grabbed them, quickly took his pajama bottoms off, and put his trousers back on.

They were a comfortable, loose fit, black, and they were durable, good for a lot of purposes, and not to mention they went with anything, which was very good considering his fashion ineptitude, as Lavender liked to put it. He rifled in his trunk for another shirt, picking a heavier sweater, a deep blue color, and he pulled that on over top of a black t-shirt. Grabbing his robes, and his invisibility cloak, Harry wrapped both around himself before closing the curtains on his bed and making his way out of the room.

When he got downstairs, there weren't many people awake still, despite the relatively early hour. Ron was still up, putting away his chess set, and Harry stayed as quiet as he could as he made his way to the portrait door, and when Ron's back was turned, Harry opened the door quickly and left, hoping the Fat Lady wouldn't make a fuss over an invisible entity. She turned out to be asleep, and Harry hurried down the hall.

Down a flight of stairs, two corridors, past the Great Hall, down another staircase, a left turn, and he found himself in the main passage leading into the dungeons. What a lot of people didn't know was that there were two floors to the dungeons, though it was more like one and a half. Harry jogged down the halls in search of the entrance to the Slytherin common room. Unlike the rest of the Houses, the Slytherins actual housing wasn't hidden. It was well known it was in the dungeons, but who in their right mind would ever go looking for it?

Granted, it wasn't in plain sight, as to go along with the general theme, but for someone who knew the tricks of the unseen and overlooked by Salazar Slytherin, Harry soon found what he was looking for. There was a black doorframe, engraved with twisting and twining serpents in the wood, and inside the borders of the frame, were blocks of stone, much like the normal walls of the castle. The thing was, the stones were cut in different sizes here, and arranged to make the picture of a cobra rising to strike.

It was a marvelous work of mosaic, and Harry didn't have much time to inspect the masonry for too long before he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He pressed himself up in the nearest corner, forgetting he was invisible for the time being, though he relaxed when he remembered, waiting for the owner of the steps to appear. It was Millicent Bulstrode, and he knew she was a Slytherin Prefect, which is why she was in the halls at this time. Harry guessed it wasn't much past eleven at night, but they had to go to bed early to get up early.

Of course, there were some who pulled all-nighters, but since you couldn't do much at night without drawing a teacher's attention, most people just went to bed at around ten-thirty. Belatedly, Harry realized that he would have needed a password to enter into the core of Slytherin territory, and shuffled quietly to get back to the door before it shut itself after Millicent passed through. "Vipera penetro."

Harry watched as the cobra's fangs elongated, and a faint hissing sound emanated from the stones as they started to slide away from each other, rearranging themselves much like the secret passage Draco had used to get them down to Potions on time. He hurried to slip in behind Millicent, meanwhile wondering how many secret passages Salazar had built into the school that weren't on the Marauder's Map, something major.

Once inside, Harry was confronted with the sheer size of the ceiling, and the luxurious furniture in the common room. He'd been in the room before, but it seemed a lot more sharper this time around, as he'd had nothing much else to focus on other than gawking at the portraits on the walls. There was a large picture of their House Founder above an equally large fireplace, three wing-back black leather chairs fanned out in front of the crackling fire.

Harry almost tripped, not noticing the stairs he'd almost stumbled down. That would certainly have blown his cover, toppling down the stairs and landing in a heap at the bottom. There were still a few students up and doing homework in the common room, and a girl reading on one of the couches near the fire. He watched her as he stepped down the stairs, knowing that there weren't many girls in Slytherin at all, and that most were really ugly or, quite frankly, dogs. She was pretty in a quiet, dark-haired, glasses, bookworm sort of way, and Harry wondered if people thought that about him, except the bookworm part.

He was more of an adventurous type, which he supposed canceled out the quiet part. The decor was set out in mostly black and deep green, with the dark and light greys of the stone which made up the entire walls, floor and ceiling. It wasn't as drab and dark as he'd faintly remembered, but it wasn't as cheery as Gryffindor Tower, though it was really nice, in a rich sort of way. Harry was sure he could appreciate the effort and money gone into decorating the rooms in the Slytherin dormitories and common room, but he had other things to do right now.

Looking around at the doors in the room, Harry spotted three bathrooms (girls, boys, and Prefects) and the doors leading through to the dormitories. One for girls, on the right, and the boys' door was on the left. Harry made directly towards it, deviating to walk around a couch or a table, and he made sure no one was looking before he pushed the handle down, black marble carved out as the end of a snake's tail, and entered into the next room. Now he was in a hallway that had three doors on each side, and one on the end.

He looked to each side, and they were labeled by year. Common logic would state that the year he was looking for was at the end of the hall, the main door at the other end. He made his way to that door, and sure enough, in ornate silver lettering, it read "Seventh Year." Harry opened the door, but before he did, he took a deep breath and secured his hold of the cloak around himself. He squinted his eyes, ready for an impossible scene, no way for himself to speak to Draco, but found himself in a moderately sized round room.

Harry frowned, wondering if this was a trick, and the room knew he wasn't a Slytherin, and was therefore leading him through a maze, by not letting him see the right doors and choosing the wrong one. No, that wasn't true, Harry found out, as he looked around the room at the rest of the doors that lined the curving wall. It was another small common room, exclusively for the seventh years. There was a smaller fireplace, a large table, and couches (curved to fit against the walls) around where there was room between doors and portraits and a notice board.

There was no one in the room, for which Harry was thankful, though he did take time to worry about what he'd walk into next. He went up to the door closest to him, and read "Nott" and "Crabbe." Harry snickered. Not crab, like written in olde English. He knew it was stupid, but he couldn't help it. It seemed that there were only two occupants to a room, their names stated on the door. Harry walked around the room until he came to "Zabini" and "Malfoy."

Harry couldn't recall hearing much about Zabini, and to be honest, he'd forgotten the boy's first name. He thought for a minute before remembering. Blaise, that was it. Harry opened the door, not as tentatively as he had before, and went into the room. It was lit with sconces on each wall, because this room did, indeed, have four walls, not being circular like the small common room. Harry looked behind himself to the door, and it was a flat wall. He frowned, but chalked it up to more charms and let it be.

There was a moment before Harry determined which bed to go to, and decided upon seeing a small tuft of blond hair sticking out from under the covers of the bed to the left of the room. Harry crept up quietly, hoping not to wake Draco's roommate. He got to the edge of Draco's bed, the side that Draco was facing, toward the wall, and he decided to sit down. Draco felt the new weight on his bed and opened his eyes. They were a bit blurry and strained, but he would know Harry's face anywhere. Whether Harry had on his invisibility cloak or not. "What are you doing here?"

"You know it's me?" Harry asked, quiet, still mindful of their not so private state. He smiled a bit.

"Who else would come and sit in the curve of my body in the middle of the night, under an invisibility cloak?" Draco whispered, following Harry's quiet tone. Honestly, he would have forgotten about Blaise, and he spared a moment to glance across the room, making sure that the other boy was asleep. "I thought you were mad at me," he said, and almost felt he hadn't because he didn't want this to escalate into some type of verbal spat. _And, since we're already in a fucking bed,_ Draco thought, _it wouldn't take much to go past verbal._

"I'm not," Harry said, answering Draco's not quite question, "but we've got to go." He sat up from the bed, holding his cloak over his arm, and allowing Draco to sit up. Draco did sit up, and he rubbed at the side of his face that was against the pillow. Harry couldn't help it, and he watched Draco, looking at the other boy's body before snapping out of it when Draco looked back to him. His hair was out of its usual slicked back state, falling freely without being held with some type of gel. It looked a paler blond like that.

"Listen," Harry started, but quieted his voice again at Draco's shush. "We need to talk to Snape before this gets any worse, or farther, or whatever I'm supposed to call it," Harry said, not answering Draco's question, but clearly sounding confused about what he was worried about. "The only chance we have before that happens, is to find him. I don't want to tell anyone else."

"Where is he?" Draco asked, confused himself, but understanding Harry's train of thought on the matter.

"Durmstrang."

"Are you mad?" Harry didn't answer him, just shrugged his shoulders and stood, grabbing Draco's wrist and pulling him up to his own feet, and Harry turned before he could fall under the spell that seemed to like to hold teenage boys' attention to certain sexual parts of others' anatomy. Before Draco could really say anything at all about the plan, Harry took off towards the door, not shutting it behind him, and Draco heard the interior common room door shut as Harry simply left without him.

Draco sighed, rubbing at his forehead for a moment, and flipping his hair back, though some of it still fell down to the sides, and it stayed out of his face for the most part now. He definitely didn't have time to do his hair. He wasn't utterly oblivious when it came to Harry's tendency of jumping off on the wrong foot into poorly planned adventurous activities, so the least he could do would be to keep Harry out of the major bits of trouble he was headed for.

He knew the only possible reason Snape had for going to Durmstrang was for the Dark Arts. The exception was the Triwizard Tournament, but every few hundred years wasn't often enough to be called a reason to go to that cold, godforsaken place. Draco would know, having been there a few times himself, with Lucius, of course.

 _Oh, and Harry has completely fallen off his rocker,_ Draco surmised. Harry had come down to the dungeons to enlist his help, and rightfully so. He knew Snape better than Harry on this type of level, though Draco did wonder about what went on when, on the few occasions Snape had said something about training, and his door was found locked with Harry Potter having "detention" that day. It was with a bit of a begrudging acceptance to a choice he didn't quite make for himself, that he was going to go with Harry. Even if it was for no other reason than to lead the way there and to keep this delusional side of Potter from doing something stupid.

"Well," Draco said, sounding resigned, but challenged, as he tossed the covers of his bed aside, and stood up. "I guess we're going to Durmstrang," he said quietly to himself, shaking his head as he gathered a few things into his school bag, after dumping out his books on his bed. He certainly wouldn't need those where they were going. Stopping at his bed side table, Draco put his watch on, and opened the small drawer there, and retrieved a bag of money, which also contained a key to his vault at the bank. Satisfied that he'd collected all they'd need immediately on their impromptu trip, Draco followed after Harry, who he found waiting near the stone door out of the Slytherin common room.

Stone echoes things very well, whether you want to hear things or not. At least he knew who Draco's latest lover was. Blaise had to admit, it _was_ a bit impressive: Harry Potter, Draco's lover. He didn't suppose anyone else knew about it, but if what he heard was true, and the two of them were going off to a school for Dark Arts, of all places, and together no less, people were going to notice. If the Headmaster didn't know where they were, close friends would be questioned and that wasn't a pleasant thought, especially considering Draco's father, incarcerated or not.

By now, Harry and Draco had made it up to the main floor, and out onto the front grounds of the castle lawns, and were heading towards the gate. From a window in the east tower, they certainly looked small and unrecognizable to someone who didn't already know who they were, or where they were going. Dumbledore watched as the two figures sprinted across the grounds. He had not expected the second addition, but new things happen every day; who was he to question unlikely relations? Slytherin and Gryffindor were best friends, after all. Perhaps this would be the beginning of a new reconciliation of Houses.

Shaking his head, the Headmaster looked down to the note he held in his hand. He smiled at it, his eyes twinkling as he looked back to his desk where Harry's school bag now lay. Fawkes crooned and Dumbledore walked from the window after one last look toward the gates; normally they were shut at night, but tonight would be an exception. He stroked the golden feathers between his phoenix's eyes, and the bird closed them, letting out another soft sound.

\----


	5. Chapter 5

Today was a good day simply for the fact that they had Defense Against the Dark Arts. It was the first class since Professor Lupin had come back, though technically he was still in the castle being locked in his office, 'back' referred to his reverting back to human form after the full moon. Remus had returned to Hogwarts to continue teaching the class in their sixth year, much to the delight of just about all of the students, with the only exception of Severus Snape. Some still had parents that were wary about the werewolf, but they soon felt differently after hearing so many good things about the man.

Remus had taken time to consider the offer from Dumbledore, but after giving it some thought, he had agreed. The initial apprehension faded quickly, and he was well at home now in the old castle. He was glad to be back, as well, and he came down from his office and smiled at his first class of the day: Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years. His smile almost faltered as he noted a few absent faces, and he frowned to himself as he set a large text down on his desk. He greeted his class, and they chimed back a greeting in return before there was a sharp knock on the door.

Everyone's attention was turned to the sound, and Remus picked up his wand and waved it at the door, opening it. "I'm sorry I'm late, sir," Lavender pleaded, breathing rapidly and clutching her books to her chest, though her hair looked absolutely great. Hermione would bet that's why the other girl was late, though she hadn't even noticed before now.

"Well, come in, then! Come in." He gestured to the girl, and then waved the door shut behind her. Lavender walked straight to her seat and sat down, and Lupin started the lesson for today. It was already much better than having extra hours of Charms, and that sentiment seemed to be shared by everyone, even the Slytherins. Ron had taken his usual seat next to Hermione, and that left a space open on the other side of Hermione where Harry usually sat. Ron had already told her that Harry hadn't been in the dormitory that morning, or down in the common room after he'd made it downstairs and looked around.

He'd asked Hermione if she knew, but she was just as confused as he was, which was definitely saying something. When they didn't see Harry at breakfast, either, they had started to become worried. Hermione suggested that maybe he was just hiding in another part of the castle and wasn't in the mood to attend any classes just yet. She had to agree he did have enough on his shoulders to deserve a break, but she didn't agree with his choice of missing classes, especially with NEWTs coming up and all.

Ron had wondered why he'd want to miss a perfectly good day. To begin with, they'd basically made a trade in the staff; Snape buggered off and Lupin was back. Defense Against the Dark Arts, and no Potions, what's not to like about a day like that? He still couldn't help but be worried for more practical reasons, though. After class had gotten underway, Lupin caught Hermione's eye, and she had to shrug, not knowing what she could say, other than she didn't know herself where Harry was.

When Hermione had finished the first part of her assignment they'd been given, she sat back in her chair and looked to Ron. He was still working, and she really didn't want to disturb him when he was actually focused on it, for once. She frowned, though, realizing that the class had been remarkably quiet thus far. Looking over Ron's shoulder at the other side of the room, she surveyed the Slytherins, and noticed something strange. She nudged Ron, and he took a moment to finish his sentence, holding up a finger to her until he was done. "What?" he whispered to her.

"Notice anyone missing?" she hinted, whispering as well as she didn't want to disturb the class over something that might be simply coincidental. Hermione pointed back over to the Slytherins still engaged in their work. Ron shifted in his chair, and ticked off names in his head. Goyle was glaring into his book as he read, trying to find the answers to the questions. Crabbe was about an inch away from his parchment as he wrote, and no one else seemed out of the ordinary either.

Wait, he thought. He'd looked straight to Crabbe and Goyle, but why did he usually do that? To look at Malfoy, who was currently no where to be seen. Ron turned back to Hermione and said, "Maybe they cozied up together somewhere and fell asleep last night." Ron made a disgusted face before he went serious. "What do you think happened?"

Hermione was about to comment, but Professor Lupin turned his attention back towards their side of the room, an eyebrow raised at the two students, still wondering himself where Harry had gotten off to. Ron shook his head and raised his hands in a small, helpless gesture, letting him know that they hadn't figured anything out yet. Lupin nodded his head slightly, but made no other further attempts at covert conversations.

The rest of the class was uneventful until Lupin asked that Ron and Hermione stay behind. All of the students, save the two Gryffindors, filed out of the room and onto their next class. Ron and Hermione shut their books and watched as Lupin took a blank piece of parchment from a folder and scribbled something down on it before walking over to his students. "Alright, I suppose you know why you're here. You really have no idea where Harry is?" he asked the two seated students. He felt like he was threatening them by standing in front of their desks like this, even if he wasn't even terribly tall.

"No, sir," Hermione said, clearly wishing that wasn't the truth. "He wasn't found in the dormitory this morning, and we didn't look very far before we came here. He didn't show up for breakfast either." Hermione's worry showed clear on her face, and Ron nodded beside her in agreement. "We haven't a clue."

Lupin nodded to himself, looking down at the table, and frowned slightly as he thought. Before he could ask anything more, Ron started to speak. "He's been acting strange the last few days, too. We're really worried about him." Hermione looked at Ron curiously; she knew he wasn't happy about having Harry disappear like this, but she thought he was still a bit peeved at the recent revelations about Harry's more private aspect of his life.

"What about Mr. Malfoy, do you know where he is?" Lupin asked, trying to sound casual, and not prying, though he couldn't help his eyebrows rising slightly in curiosity. He didn't think they knew anything about that, but he'd seen Hermione point that fact out to Ron that Draco was absent as well. The rest of the class didn't seem to notice too much, using the newfound silence to work on their assignments.

"No," they both said automatically and in unison, to boot. Lupin gave barely a hint of a frown at them, and nodded slowly. Hermione looked at Ron for a moment, but he stared ahead at their teacher, waiting for Lupin to say something more, to offer some type of help, perhaps.

"I don't think we need to say anything just yet. If he doesn't show up by tonight, let me know, and I'll go to the Headmaster." Ron seemed to sigh inaudibly, glad to hear he was going to help do something about this. It wasn't even lunch, but the looming sense that Harry had gotten himself in trouble was starting to build like a cloud over their heads. Lupin felt it, too, and he dearly hoped Harry would show up. He felt a need to look out for the boy after certain events that felt all too recent and raw as painful memories came back to him.

Remus cleared his throat as the two teens nodded their acceptance before they stood. "Oh," he said, just as the two were about to walk through the door, "here." He handed to Ron, since he was closer, the note he'd written for them, excusing them for being late, as he'd kept them back. They said good bye, and left for their next class. He knew his would be there any minute, and he wanted to clear his head before the second years would arrive.

He knew they knew more than they were letting on, in regards to Draco Malfoy, in particular, but he was sure they were telling the truth about Harry. If something was going on, and it was something other than a couple of boys individually playing hookey, they seemed to be in on it together. What those two boys would possibly be doing together that didn't involve fists and bruises, he couldn't fathom at the moment, though there were a few unlikely possibilities forming in his mind.

They hadn't known who else to tell, and knew they could trust Remus the most of all their teachers with information about Harry's wellbeing. It seemed Ron was a bit ticked off still, despite his evident worry; Hermione thought that was why he never said anything or was too worried until he noticed Malfoy was gone, too. Hermione was still just trying to hope Harry was just hiding somewhere in the castle. Though, preferably, in her opinion, without Draco. Then, she couldn't ignore the fact that Draco was, indeed, missing, as well. They didn't have to say anything about that to Lupin; he seemed to already have his own suspicions.

@>*~

They'd been traveling for the last few hours straight, and Draco was pretty sure Harry had no idea where the hell they were at the moment. After they'd left the castle grounds, Draco had stopped Harry and told him that they should follow the road down to Hogsmeade to begin with, and if they wanted to cut across somewhere after that, it was fine with him. Of course, he'd definitely need new boots after all of this, but that was later.

He was surprised that Harry had enough wits about himself to know it was a better idea to travel at night, because, honestly, they're still a Malfoy and Harry Potter. Not too good to be seen in public like that. Draco definitely didn't want anyone to see them together, for the simple fact that it would damage his reputation if it wasn't slowly controlled until the point where they could be seen together, and not in a fight of some sort. Besides that fact, Draco knew that he was followed when he was out of school.

Technically, it wasn't 'followed', but it was bloody annoying, Draco thought. His father had set some orders to be carried out should he be sent to Azkaban, and one of them was to keep track of Draco. He'd known about it, but, first of all, he didn't think his father was going to be caught, and second, he didn't think it would be so frustrating to have a silent chaperone hiding in the dark everywhere he went. Well, it was. Even though they didn't know he was outside of school, he didn't want to take any chances; they'd keep out of sight.

Neither of them would have had to worry about laying low if they weren't going on this ridiculous escapade in the first place, but that was Harry, Draco supposed. If he didn't do that, he'd be right boring, then, wouldn't he? Can't have that in a celebrity. His father would have given him a sharp knock to the back of his head for being so impulsive and simply acquiescing, going along with Harry, but Draco didn't care. His father wasn't that type, and his mother seemed to think that it was just a way for Draco to be defiant, and still retain his dominant posture with things, but still taking control.

As long as he did what his father wanted over all, he was free to do what he wanted, so much as he didn't interfere with things that didn't involve him. He really didn't want to think about his father, despite the direction his mind kept pushing for. Even though he'd had more than a year of not being dragged along to some evil function or another, he missed Lucius; though not particularly the parties.

The reason he'd thought of his father to begin with, was because he was trying to recall the most he could about the few times he'd been taken to Durmstrang. Lucius had considered sending Draco there instead of Hogwarts, but that would seem suspicious, with the Ministry watching for misbehavior in all elite who were known to be... less than honest in their dealings. It came down to Draco's education, and public appearances, and a compromise was reached; Draco would go to Hogwarts, and Lucius would teach him all he needed to know of the Dark Arts.

Since he'd get enough training at home, and the addition of keeping up tradition and whatnot, Draco was sent to Hogwarts, and told to be sorted into Slytherin. He wondered what his father would have done if the Sorting Hat hadn't placed him in Slytherin, and decided he was too tired to imagine all the horrid things his father would do to whoever was responsible for it. Ahead of him, Harry was still trudging along, though Draco could tell he'd slowed considerably from the time they started.

He still didn't think Harry had a clue where he was going, and Draco was dead on his feet. "Harry," he panted, after jogging the short way to get out of the open. They'd followed the edge of the woods, and they were starting to curve away from the road that was adjacent to them. The landscape was rapidly changing, starting to become more hilled. In the distance they could see a town just the other side of the largest ridge, and Draco decided for them, not caring what Harry's opinion would be. He'd punch him unconscious if Harry didn't agree. "We have to stop for the night."

Draco leaned over, hands on his knees holding him up, his breath almost fully returned. He prided himself for being in shape when all he did for activity was the occasional Quidditch game at school, though there certainly were an obscene amount of stairs at Hogwarts, and add that to what he had to deal with at home, he got enough exercise. He watched as Harry turned around, only a meter or two in front of him. He was still panting, and he looked at Draco before he started falling forward.

Panicking as he watched Harry's eyes roll back in his head, all he could do was simply watch as Harry hit the ground, face first. He fought the sudden urge to laugh at the other boy, and moved to haul him over to the nearest tree. Draco's footing slipped as he got close to the tree, and he landed on a knee, and pulled Harry the rest of the way like that, shuffling backwards as he went. Leaning up against the tree himself, Draco set Harry beside him. It would be rather suspicious to drag, or carry, Harry over to the town and find a place to stay for the rest of the night and all of tomorrow.

Or, they could stay in the woods, which would be drearily cold and uncomfortable, or they could suffer the odd looks and find a hotel. Draco had money, but none of it in Muggle currency, since it was very rarely that he was in a Muggle town and didn't know where he could go to exchange. He supposed he could pawn his watch, or his Slytherin brooch to get a ride far enough to find a place where he knew wizards would be

They were quite a ways from London, but they needed to find somewhere to change his money or to use it how it was. Draco began to feel very alone as he sat with his back against the tree, listening to the faint sounds drifting from the town over the hill. Harry had slid sideways towards him a while ago, but Draco couldn't bring himself to care, rather enjoying the steady weight against him, keeping him a bit warm. He'd rather Harry was leaning against his other side now, though; warm it up, too, you know.

Harry's head lolled onto his shoulder, and Draco felt oddly comforted, even if he knew Harry was half unconscious and asleep, too much so to care that he was sitting in a cold, damp forest. Draco lifted his arm slightly, as it was trapped behind Harry's body, and settled his hand on Harry's hip, making sure he didn't fall the other way, despite the fact that Harry was completely leaning on him now. Merlin, he hoped Harry didn't snore. He'd never be able to spend the night with the other boy if he did. At least not without rectifying it in some way, like holding a pillow over the other boy's face until he woke up, and Draco rolled back over, shoving said pillow under his head and going to sleep himself.

With his other hand, Draco pulled out his wand, intending to make a fire to keep them warm. There was a rather large beetle on his arm, and he sneered at it before shaking his arm vigorously to get the insect off. Suddenly, he heard a loud bang, and he jumped, tightening his hold on Harry when a bright light shone before fading, amazingly revealing a huge, triple decker bus. It had appeared out of thin air right in front of them in the small clearing between the woods, the hills and the road.

"Oi! You coming?"

@>*~

After Transfiguration, Harry still hadn't shown up, and Ron and Hermione had decided they'd go and check a few places that Harry might be. He might have simply forgotten about classes and was sitting in the library looking for something in particular; even though that was Hermione's forte, Harry did, on occasion, have something strange to look up and wouldn't rest until he found it. That was why, during lunch, the two of them had ventured to the library to start their search.

They knew Harry could be sitting in the Restricted Section right now, but they didn't think he was that stupid to do it during the day, unless he fell asleep under his cloak, or something. Ron and Hermione had almost scanned every aisle in the library until they came to the last corner, and they walked without hesitation into the least used corner of the library. "Oh," Hermione started, though that was as far as she got before her brain stopped and decided to simply stare at the people in front of her.

It certainly seemed like Harry from behind, though initially, she expected to see blond hair, and the lack of it startled her. It wasn't Harry, and they both found out just who it was when the two dark-haired boys in the dusty aisle turned around, having been caught. "Neville?" Ron asked incredulously when the other boy turned around, followed by an even more astonished, " _Zabini?_ "

The two had pulled apart, having been in the middle of a great snog, and Blaise licked his lips, looking straight at Hermione. She averted her eyes and told her brain to forget that image, along with the one of seeing the boys kissing, but it refused her demand, and filed them away somewhere in the back, instead. Meanwhile, Neville's mouth was working, trying to find something to say, and he sighed defeatedly, unable to think of an excuse when he looked back to the Slytherin.

Blaise stuck his hands in his pockets and grinned, shrugging his shoulders in a delicate roll, starting to adopt his Slytherin attitude before he could fully stop himself. He hated playing the part, but whatever. Ron had crossed his arms over his chest, having a recurring episode of a recent, hurtful experience. He glared at Blaise, and then turned around and walked out of the aisle. Hermione winced as she heard a chair scrape across the stone floor a few moments later, and gave an apologetic smile to the other boys. Ron sat down with an audible flump, and waited for the others to come and sit down, knowing that's just what Hermione would do.

"Ron," Neville began as he neared the table, Blaise following just behind him. "There's something I should tell you." They pulled out two chairs on the opposite side of the table, and Hermione walked around to sit down beside Ron.

"What? That you're skipping off all day to play with the enemy, too? Sorry, mate, I think I already figured that out," he snapped, anger rising. Hermione rested her head in a hand propped on the table, and waited for Neville to continue. Ron wouldn't calm down right now even if she tried to get him to, so she just let him fume quietly to the side.

Neville pretty much ignored Ron's comments, and looked to Blaise, who nodded his agreement before Neville turned back to his classmates. "We know where Harry went," he said sheepishly. He supposed he should have gone straight to the two of them when he'd found out, not stayed to make out with his boyfriend in the back of the library, and he felt a bit bad for that. It got both of their attention, though, and Ron seemed to forget about what he'd seen, and said, and gave frustrated gestures for Neville to hurry up and tell them.

"How do you know?" Hermione asked, still confused at how Neville of all people would know. Harry wouldn't have told Neville, would he?

"I'm Draco's roommate," Blaise said, and Hermione realized this was the first thing the boy had said. "Harry came into the dungeons and straight into our room. Draco thought I was asleep, but I heard it all." Hermione's jaw was slack, mind boggling at how much of his mind Harry would have to have lost to go walking into the core of Slytherin territory, and into their dorms. How did he get inside?

"So, where'd they go?" Ron asked, eyeing the Slytherin warily. He'd never really had much to do with Zabini in the past, just being in a couple classes with him, but that was about it. They didn't know a thing about him, other than what he'd just mentioned. On the outside, he seemed a bit quiet, obviously, since he'd never stuck out in their minds as someone loud and obnoxious, like some other mentionable Slytherins.

"The Castle of Durmstrang," Blaise said, and watched the shock and confusion wash over the Gryffindors' faces. It didn't give him a kick, but he had to admit that Weasley did look a bit disgruntled; he was just telling them what he knew, and the only reason he was doing that, was because they were Neville's friends. He'd told Neville because he knew Harry was his friend, and knew he wouldn't blab to the whole school about anything in regards to Draco, since, well, look at themselves.

Hermione and Ron still hadn't said anything, though Hermione looked a bit more scared now than confused. "Why?" she asked, sounding absolutely like someone he shouldn't mess with, but since Blaise was going to answer her anyway, it didn't matter. He knew very well that tone of voice doesn't mean there would be much behind it to back it up.

"That's what we don't know," he said, with another shrug of his shoulders. "Something to do with Snape, I heard, but otherwise I dunno. They seemed to be talking about something they'd already talked about, and I didn't catch on. I didn't even know Harry was who he was seeing."

"They're not 'seeing', they're just fucking," Ron said crudely, Harry's betrayal in his eyes still too raw of a wound to take this very well. Hermione flinched, and so did Neville; she just hoped Ron wouldn't put his foot in his mouth. "I don't know how they could even stand to look at each other for an extended period of time, let alone snog. I'd never touch a Slytherin." Hermione sighed quietly to herself. "Yuck."

Blaise didn't say anything, just stared back at Ron in amazement at the open hostility towards his 'kind'. He couldn't help but start to sink in on himself; not that he was embarrassed about being who he was, he was quite proud, but just because he hated how he was treated because of it. He cleared his throat softly, looking down at the table, unable to look at the flaring hatred on the red-haired boy's face. Ron suddenly got a very startled look on his face, as if he didn't realize what he'd just said until it was too late. "Sorry," he mumbled, looking down at the table, as well.

"It's okay," Blaise said. "I wouldn't touch many of them myself, but I know what you meant." Ron looked up at him, and he clearly felt bad. Blaise had never done anything to him, other than plain association to Draco, but even that was a bit far fetched, even in Ron's mind. "It's okay."

Ron nodded, but still looked a bit ashamed of what he'd said, though he was warring on that in his mind. He'd said what he thought, and that much was true, but he'd honestly never 'met' a Slytherin before. His only experience was with Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy, and he supposed he had a prejudiced opinion because of that. Zabini seemed like an alright guy, though, and Neville certainly seemed to like him.

Neville coughed obviously, clearly new to interrupting a moment between people. The three's attention was drawn to him. "Well, we've got some homework to finish. I'll see you guys later." He smiled at his friends, and Blaise started to stand from his chair, and gave a small smile, that seemed to come off as more of a smirk on the left side, but he tried. Hermione did seem like an okay girl, though a little over-zealous on her school enthusiasm, he thought as he made his way back to where he and Neville had been before they snuck off to make out.

Hermione waved at the two of them, smiling back at Neville as he left, and still wondering about his apparent boyfriend. She and Ron were left sitting at the table, listening to the boys' retreating footsteps. Maybe if Neville and Blaise could make it work, Harry and Draco weren't so bad of a pair. Ron looked over at Hermione, and could just tell she was thinking the same thing as him, though most likely in a more positive manner.

He knew he might be overreacting, but for the love of Merlin, was everyone going insane? He had to admit, when it came down to it, and all he was left in bed thinking about before he fell asleep was what was bothering him, he did have to admit to himself that the two _did_ have things in common. Even though, at first glance, they were seemingly on the opposite ends of the scale on just about everything.

Ron had kept his eye on Zabini when he was sitting there in front of him, and they seemed to be a good match. Their personalities really did go well together, even though neither Hermione nor Ron knew Blaise from a hole in the ground. If it came down for them to describe him, they'd have to say he was almost a Slytherin version of Neville himself. Minus a bit of the clumsiness, add a bit more intelligence (though no offence to Neville), and they'd have a match.

He couldn't really blame Neville for being concerned; he always was a good friend over the years. All of the seventh year boys had noticed Harry wasn't there in the morning, but Ron did play a part in encouraging them all that Harry was probably fine and just fell asleep in a hallway somewhere. They all laughed, not making fun of Harry, but knowing that he did wander off at night, and it wouldn't surprise them too much. Ron remembered, though, that Neville did look a bit disbelieving. He wouldn't have known the truth then, anyway, since he hadn't spoken to Zabini until lunch, it seemed.

Hermione looked back at Ron, and shrugged. She supposed they should just go back to lunch, now that they knew what happened to Harry. What would potentially happen to Harry is what worried her, and she needed some time to think about this. Neville was known for believing cock and bull stories, but this just didn't seem like a lie, or even a half truth, since Blaise obviously knew what he was talking about, being friends with Draco.

They'd have to tell someone, she concluded, watching Ron stand up beside her. He pushed his chair in and offered her a hand. She smiled and took it, letting him pull her up, and he smiled back. They walked back to the Great Hall, deciding to finish their lunch, since they couldn't do anything more today until after classes. Ron didn't let go of her hand, and Hermione couldn't stop the small smile from permanently sticking itself to her lips all the way there.

@>*~

When the bell signaling the end of their last class for the day rang, Ron and Hermione grabbed their bags and made their way to Lupin's office. They decided to tell him, wanting the teacher to know what they'd found out, even if it was a bit of a breech of Harry's privacy. Hoping the werewolf was in his office, Hermione and Ron climbed the small staircase and knocked on his door. Hermione had fretted about waiting until after classes, worrying that Harry was being led into a trap, but they hadn't had time when they'd made it back to the Great Hall, and they were both hungry.

It seemed more of a thing for Ron to think, that Harry would have gone against his will, but she couldn't be sure, either. Lupin heard the knock and set his quill down, and picked up his wand to open the door. "Alohomora," he said, and the door opened itself. Ron came through the door first, after Lupin gestured to him. "Come in, you two." He smiled at them, setting his wand down and putting the lid back on his jar of ink.

They came inside, Hermione shutting the door behind herself, and they sat down in front of their professor's desk. "I thought you two would be at the Quidditch match; is something wrong? Did you find out anything about Harry?" Ron made a face, having completely forgotten about the game he had wanted to see. It was between Ravenclaw vs. Hufflepuff and everyone wanted to find out if Hufflepuff would win, just like their surprising victory over Slytherin, of all teams.

"Yes, Professor," Hermione started. "We know where Harry went, and Draco's with him, too." Lupin listened carefully to what Hermione was saying, knowing by Ron's nervous fidgeting that was speaking for both of them, that it was going to be difficult to explain. It was almost ten minutes later by the time Remus had asked a few questions to complete the story. He pursed his lips for a moment, debating what they should do, and with a passively determined air, he decided they would have to tell Professor Dumbledore; he should be told now, rather than later, like Lupin had previously suggested.

Hermione agreed, though clearly tentatively, and they got up from their seats and made their way to the Headmaster's chambers. Lupin spoke the password to the golden gargoyle and the stairway began to turn, spiraling up to the next level. The three of them stepped on and rode to the top before stepping into the hallway in front of Dumbledore's office. Lupin knocked on the door, and they waited quietly until they heard the old wizard beckon them inside.

Lupin pushed down the handle to open the door, and gestured for Ron and Hermione to proceed him into the room. Dumbledore was seated behind his desk, a tea cup in front of him as he read down a page in a very large book. Looking up when he heard more than one set of footsteps, he adjusted his glasses slightly as he watched his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher and two of his most amusing students walk into his office. "Oh! What a nice surprise; good afternoon! What can I do for you three?" he asked, smiling brightly at them as he shuffled his book and some scattered papers off to the side.

Lupin ushered Ron and Hermione into the room and let them take seats in the two chairs in front of the large desk. He came to stand behind them and the Headmaster shifted his gaze from the students to the teacher. "Sir," Remus began, "it has come to my attention that Harry and... Draco Malfoy," he cleared his throat, "have left Hogwarts on their way to the Castle of Durmstrang." He knew he had confusion and worry written across his face, but he tried not to let it seep into his voice. The two teens sitting before him didn't need to become any more worried than they already were.

"Yes, Remus," Dumbledore said, his smile having faded, and nodded seriously. "That is quite true."

Lupin was about to splutter something, albeit quietly, but he frowned, wondering what the older man was thinking about the two missing students. Dumbledore nodded again, looking at Remus in a pointed way before looking back to Hermione and Ron, who had exclaimed at him having known already. "How did you know?"

"Yes, I know where they are," Dumbledore said, smiling again, giving the two a reassuring look, yet still ignoring their question. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, could you step outside for a moment please? I have something I need to discuss with Professor Lupin." Ron and Hermione looked a bit nervous, like Dumbledore was going to break the news to Lupin that Harry and Draco had gone off and eloped or something instead of having gone off to a school that specialized in the Dark Arts. They nodded, stood, and left the room.

Dumbledore watched until the door was shut firmly behind the students, and he then turned his attention back to Lupin. "What I am about to say, Remus, needs to remain between the two of us and those children." He gestured to the door, where Hermione and Ron were standing, no doubt trying to listen to what he was saying.

"I understand, Headmaster."

"Harry and Draco have, indeed, left the school on their way to an unplottable location in the far north of Europe. I am," he paused, sitting back in his chair, though he looked like he was thinking, "not sure why, but Harry was rather adamant that he needed to speak with Professor Snape." Remus had moved to sit down in the chair Ron had been occupying, and was now glad he did so. Why on earth would Harry want to speak to Snape? Had they resumed his Occlumency training without telling him?

"Remus, I need you to try and get in touch with Severus. Let him know that the boys are on their way," he said, "so he can bring them back safely." Lupin didn't want to guess at whatever reasoning Dumbledore had for not worrying, especially in these circumstances. "I'm sure you already know why Severus was ordered there?" Lupin nodded; he'd already had an idea, but with Dumbledore saying it like that, there was no doubt left in his mind.

Hermione and Ron were still waiting outside of the office as Dumbledore continued speaking with Lupin. They had nothing better to do than simply stand there, since they didn't want to watch the game anymore, though Hermione thought Ron was lying about that. "Do you think Malfoy tricked Harry into going with him?"

In another time, or maybe if she wasn't so worried, she would have reprimanded him for that. Instead, she frowned thoughtfully at him, and replied, "I don't think so." She turned from where she was leaning against the wall. "Blaise told us that Harry went to talk to Draco and wanted to go after Snape; I don't see why Malfoy would have persuaded him to go there by himself."

"It could be a trap," Ron said, turning towards her. "How do you know Zabini was telling the truth? We don't know him, Hermione, and you know Malfoy's father is a Death Eater." Hermione nodded, knowing full well all of the reasons they shouldn't trust Blaise, or Draco. "For all we know they both planned it this way." She knew Ron was holding back, just dying to go on, to tell her how evil the Malfoys were, and that they had it in for Harry, and were delivering him straight to...

She shook her head, clearing that thought out of her mind. Hermione honestly wanted to believe that Malfoy wasn't going to hurt Harry like that; she wanted to believe they had something all right going. "Ron," she started, "I doubt Malfoy's father wanted them to be, er, intimate with one another, no matter how much You-Know-Who would want that." Ron looked at her for a moment before averting his eyes and nodding. "I don't know what happened," she said, but before either of them could say anything else, the door behind them opened.

Lupin smiled shakily at them, and then came through the door, leaving it open for Dumbledore to move forward as well. They hoped they hadn't heard what they said in the hall, though neither of them looked like it. Lupin looked worried, more so than he was when they first told him Harry was gone. "Professor," Ron said, and Hermione looked at him, unsure of what he was going to say. "It might be sort of our fault that Harry left."

Dumbledore looked at him curiously, and Lupin seemed strangely calm now, though interested in what he was saying. Hermione looked at Ron, and seeing as he was having a hard time continuing, she stepped in. "We weren't very... accommodating for him when he told us something that no one was supposed to know." There was no other way to say it, and that wasn't even the truth; he hadn't told them, they had to find it out themselves.

Lupin shook his head. "You shouldn't jump to conclusions, Ron," he said, patting Ron's shoulder. "Since the Headmaster doesn't seem too worried, we shouldn't be either." Remus tried to put a smile on, looking to Dumbledore for support. Dumbledore nodded, smiling. Albus trusted Remus not to fail in his request of him, and therefore, there was hope still.

Gesturing for them to go ahead, Dumbledore called out before they stepped down the stairs. "Ah, and Miss Granger," he began, and Hermione turned around. "I've always neglected to do so, but I have wanted to commend you on your SPEW endeavors over the years." Hermione blushed, smiling, and said a quick 'thank you,' before turning and starting down the stairs, Ron snickering behind her.

Once the three of them emerged from the stairwell, they stopped, Hermione and Ron turning to face Lupin. "Yes?" he asked, wondering what else they would have to say. He hadn't wanted to pry, but he could tell they were holding something back, nothing too terribly important, but withholding it nonetheless.

"Professor," Hermione started, and she didn't look up to meet Lupin's eyes. Instead, she kept them somewhere near the vicinity of his shoes, trying to think of a way to say this tactfully. "There's something we should tell you about Harry and Draco. They've, um..." She looked up, and Lupin clearly saw she was having a hard time spitting it out. It was fairly obvious where this was going. "Well, they..." she tried again, really not finding a way to say this delicately.

Hermione looked to Ron for a moment, who looked just about as squeamish as she felt right about now, and everyone seemed to move at a slower pace when Ron opened his mouth to take a breath. Hermione looked to Lupin, who had an equally uncomfortable expression, before they both turned to Ron, and Lupin held up his hand and winced slightly. Ron paused, and then shut his mouth, feeling a bit defeated. He didn't want to say it, either, but they might as well just get it out.

Lupin lowered his hand slowly, nodding at them. He really didn't need to hear Ron say something like 'bumping uglies,' or some other euphemism that they liked to use these days. It was one thing to know, it was another to hear it, and Remus was quite content with trying to understand without having to picture Ron's face as he said it. "Yes, well," he said, clearing his throat softly, nodding at them. "Let's get back to our evening, shall we? I have a few things to finish before supper."

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and started to pull him down the hall. Lupin shook his head at the two of their retreating backs, and slowly followed behind them. He knew it wasn't any of his business who Harry decided to be with, but this certainly was never close to what he expected. Whatever Harry chose, Remus would support him, and give him any advice he could; after all, the boy was his responsibility now.

When Lupin reached his office, he sat down heavily in the chair behind his desk. There weren't very many ways that he could actually get hold of Snape without someone else discovering what was going on. He sighed, very much wishing that Sirius were still around. Lupin had been the one to take Harry under his wing, upholding a pact, as the last remaining Marauder, to do his best and honor his best friends, so tragically murdered, leaving their son alone in the world save for a few remnants of his parents' life. Lupin sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on his desk, trying to dismiss painful thoughts and focus on the task at hand.

It was going to be very difficult to contact Severus without it being suspicious. He couldn't send an owl, and he couldn't use the Floo Network; he had no idea how to even open a connection with a Floo at Durmstrang. He was sure he could look it up, but that wasn't a good idea to be looking for a fireplace that was subsequently going to be located where no one that wasn't authorized should be trying to fire-talk. There was also the fact that Snape might not be alone in a room, thus blowing his cover.

There was no other way he could think of that wouldn't take so much effort, so much that he might not be able to conjure it in the first place. He continued to wrack his brain for other options, dismissing ideas quickly when he found a flaw. The last and final option he came to was one of the hardest, most painful courses of action: telepathy.

For someone who hadn't mastered the pain of that particular practice, it could be harmful to the sender, though doing no damage to the receiver at all. Lupin sighed again as he reached an unsteady hand to draw a stack of assignments towards him, preparing to mark them before the evening meal. He had no idea if he could even be successful, but he knew now why Dumbledore had said 'try'. Dumbledore's presence in Snape's mind would stand out too much, whereas Lupin's would not, leaving only the barest trace. He'd risk the pain to be able to save Harry.

@>*~

Snape had left early on Sunday evening, taking the train to London, and then Apparating to a small all-wizarding community in Siberia. He'd debated stopping for a drink, but decided against it. He took another train to the closest he could get to the castle by transport, and then he Apparated to the gates, and walked the rest of the way to the huge stone fortress. There was no other way to get straight into the castle.

When he had felt his arm burning, he cursed to himself before stalking down the halls to the Headmaster's office. As much as he hated to reveal the Dark Mark, he rolled up his sleeve and showed Dumbledore that it was true. He had all but whined and pleaded with the man, not wanting to go, but the old wizard had decided otherwise for him. He'd sneered, not even trying to hide his anger, and had set off for this ungodly cold castle to join his fellow Death Eaters.

His presence being known was required, and he knew there had been no point in trying to find an excuse not to attend. All ranks were ordered to arrive at a certain time that was instinctive to them, seeping through their veins in a message from the Mark. Some took more time than others, depending on where they had been or what they'd been doing. As Snape approached the large iron door, he pulled up his sleeve, shuddering at the cold air, and held up his Mark to a skull-shaped indent in the metal. It glowed green for a moment, cruelly warming his arm where it burned, before the door scraped open over the stones.

Snape stepped through, letting the door slam itself shut behind himself, and he walked down the hall into the nearly unnavigable maze before him. After he'd made his way down two halls, he'd closed his eyes, letting his senses guide him to the room where the others were gathering. Snape frowned when he reached the room. He was late. He hated that, though he knew he wasn't the last to arrive, which made it a slight bit better.

He advanced into the room, nodding recognition and acknowledgement at familiar faces he passed. There were three figures, two tall and one shorter, with their hoods still over their heads, hiding their faces from view, and when Snape passed them, he felt eerily like he was being watched. Turning, he looked towards them; the one in the middle nodded slowly at him, and he pursed his lips, simply staring back at them. They didn't quite stand out, but there was something odd about them, as if they didn't quite fit in where they stood, off to the side. He wasn't the only one who noticed, as no one else chose to go too near them.

Snape finally nodded back, and directed his attention elsewhere. He wandered through the growing crowd, speaking to a few members here and there, though a crowd of Death Eaters aren't the sort of pointless mingling. It wasn't as if they could sit down and have a nice pot roast for dinner, and chat about their daily affairs. No one cared.

A few that were more closely aligned to others would stay in groups, though the rest simply stood silent, gazing around the room at the others. Snape could see a few arguments even taking place between some people. All the same, they were all waiting for Voldemort to arrive.

"Severus," he heard crooned out from behind him. He only had a few seconds to grimace before he was turned by his shoulder to face the dark beauty of Bellatrix Lestrange. "Do tell me, dear; how is my darling nephew?"

Insufferable, he wanted to say, but bit his tongue. "Bella," he said, smirking, "Draco continues to excel in my classes, and learns quickly in others. High expectations of him are not misplaced; he will be a fine wizard." She smiled devilishly, stroking her hand down his arm. He really hadn't a clue how Draco did in his studies other than Potions, but he was quite sure if he displeased the woman, that she'd turn on him in a second with any number of Unforgivable curses.

As she continued speaking, Severus' attention was pulled over her shoulder as he watched as the three hooded figures strode out of the room with a purpose. No one else left the room until half past two in the morning, when they had as mutually decided as you could in a group like this, to find their rooms and wait until tomorrow. The Dark Lord had not arrived.

@>*~

The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall showed the midnight blue sky with sprinklings of silver stars shining above them as they ate their meal. Ron and Hermione were seated at their usual spots at the Gryffindor table, though feeling oddly lonely amongst their housemates. With Harry gone, it just wasn't the same. They'd never considered being friends with him a burden, but now they felt almost like they could do a lot of things without worrying about how Harry would feel about it.

Neither of them had said, but if they wanted, they could go off somewhere together, and not feel the guilt at leaving Harry behind or making a flimsy excuse. It made them feel strangely alone, and yet free at the same time. They wouldn't trade being friends with Harry for anything, even if he did attract nasty, drooling evilness like a constantly ringing Pavlovian dinner bell. Hermione sighed, taking a ham sandwich from the plate piled full of them.

Even though Ron was still a bit ticked off at his best friend, he still felt odd without his presence. He knew one day that the three of them might split up to pursue their own lives, but damnit, they were still in school and that didn't mean it had to start now, did it? Ron sighed, and before eating a spoonful of his soup, he looked up at Hermione and asked, "So?"

"So," Hermione replied, after finishing the bite of sandwich in her mouth. She'd completely left all of her books in her bag, and probably felt more alone than Ron did without her montage of reading material in front of her. They turned to look at each other, and Ron shrugged. "What are we going to tell people?" Hermione whispered to him. They couldn't very well just pretend Harry was fine and well, and sitting beside them in class, because he wasn't. People would start to notice that the Boy Who Lived was suddenly missing, as well as his rival counterpart.

Ron shrugged helplessly staring at his soup, then looked up suddenly when someone spoke. "Maybe they could have both gotten sick from one of Snape's potions he made them take." It was Neville, and they both relaxed when they remembered that he knew what was going on; and so did Blaise. That still didn't sit too well with Ron, but he was willing to stomach it as long as it wasn't pushed into his face. Neville didn't seem like that kind of guy, though. He was nice, quiet, and a bit silly, but a good guy, very brave.

"That doesn't explain Snape being gone, though," Hermione said, picking at the corners of her sandwich. She hadn't been very hungry to begin with, but knew she had to eat something, or she'd wake up in the middle of the night with hunger pains.

Neville shrugged, absently poking his fork around his plate while he looked at the other two students. Ron wondered if he'd ever accidentally stabbed his arm that rested beside his plate when he wasn't paying attention. "He could have been so angry he demanded a week off school to go and search for ingredients for the antidote, and took them along with him."

Hermione had picked up her sandwich again, and took a bite. As she chewed, she had to admit, it did sound at least plausible. Sighing after she swallowed, she shook her head and set down her sandwich again. To be honest, she had no idea what to do. They'd have to speak to Lupin or Dumbledore again, and find out what to do about people asking where the two missing students were. They probably wouldn't miss Draco, but a lot of people would certainly miss Harry.

They nodded and fell into silence, leaving them all to their meal. After a while, Neville stood up from the bench. "I'll see you guys later. I told you-know-who that I'd be in the library for some, er, studying," Neville said as he walked along the table and made his way out of the Great Hall. Ron grimaced at the mental picture of exactly what Neville would be doing and he had some serious doubts it was studying.

Hermione waved at Neville and glanced across the tables to see Blaise get up a few moments later, make his excuses and walk out of the Great Hall himself. She watched until Blaise had walked through the door, deciding that the two did make a nice couple. She shook herself mentally, it was not very nice to get lewd mental images of two boys. Course it didn't help that she still had the memory of seeing the two boys snogging earlier.

Ron and Hermione continued to eat in silence, not sure exactly what they were going to do if anything caught them off guard, like questions about where Harry was. That wasn't the problem, though. The real one was for the boys' safety. Hermione just hoped that Malfoy would watch his back. She just couldn't see him turning Harry over to the Death Eaters or Voldemort after the way she saw him stare at Harry when he thought no one was watching.

@>*~

Draco blinked his eyes rapidly to clear the blinding light as it disappeared as quickly as it had come. He'd been completely bewildered at the bus that appeared, but he pulled Harry up with him and approached the edge of the forest, coming closer to the bus and the pimply faced man who'd yelled at him. "G'day," the man said, nodding. He wasn't that much older than a teenager, at least he didn't look it.

Draco nodded cautiously at the stranger, still pulling Harry with him, glad that he was starting to come around. He was at least supporting half of his weight now, holding himself up using Draco's shoulders as Draco kept his arms around him, walking over to the bus. "Who are you?" Draco asked, curiosity getting the better of him, and really wondering how the hell the bus had found them. He decided that being blunt would be good right about now. He needed to get a hold of the situation fast. This was why he wasn't impulsive without a good reason. Damn Harry.

"Stan Shunpike, at your service," the man standing on the steps through the open door said, tipping his hat at Draco. "And this is Ernie Prang."

Stan pressed himself to the side, showing the driver behind him in his seat at the wheel. "Ar," Ernie called out the door, nodding past Stan and then turned to his other side and spat out the open little window beside his seat.

"This 'ere is the Knight Bus," Stan gestured down the side of the bus where the words _Knight Bus_ were written in bright gold shimmering letters. At Draco's still blank look, he added, "You stuck out your wand hand, didn't ya?"

"Er," Draco said, though he nodded, looking dumbly at the gold letters. He was at a loss right now, and wasn't too sure about getting onto a strange bus. He nodded again, and wished Harry was awake, but then he might spill a lot of beans to just anyone right now, Draco thought.

"Well, climb aboard then," Stan continued, going back up into the bus himself. "Where'd ya like to go, mister...?" Stan trailed off, looking expectantly at Draco.

"Longbottom," but Draco hadn't said it. He frowned, and then, very belatedly, he felt that Harry wasn't leaning on him anymore, but standing on his own next to him. Draco looked at Harry, wondering if he was really awake, sleep walking, or was still delusional.

"What?" he asked.

"Neville Longbottom," Harry said, looking at Draco seriously, and Draco looked right confused but turned back to look at the conductor.

"Well, then, Mr. Longbottom," Stan said, now addressing Harry. "Where would ya li - hang on!" Stan looked straight at Harry, now leaning back out the door to peer at the boy. His brow creased for a moment before he split his face into a wide smile. "'Arry!" he cried. "Been a long time, ainnit?" he asked cheerfully.

Draco stood, even more bewildered at the scene unfolding in front of him. He certainly wasn't getting a hold of anything right now. "Yeah," Harry replied, smiling back faintly. "Listen, we're really tired, so can we just get on? How much for a pop into London, Diagon Alley?"

"Eleven sickles," said Stan, adopting his business voice, "but for fifteen you get 'ot chocolate, and for eighteen, you get a 'ot water bottle and a toothbrush in your choice of color."

"No, thanks," Harry said, "just the trip will be fine." They both turned their attention to Draco, who thought it was entirely too sudden, and Stan looked at him curiously, like he'd seen him before. Draco felt a slight nudge to his side, and turned to look back at Harry again. "I didn't bring any money," he whispered.

Draco frowned at Harry; just because he was rich didn't mean he enjoyed paying for other people. Quite frankly, he had no idea what Harry's financial situation was like, but he doubted all of his money had been blown on brooms, since he never had old or worn things like the Weasleys had, though he was an only child. He spared a moment to wonder who actually paid for Harry. His parents, he knew, had left him something, but he hadn't a clue how much. Surely he wasn't getting a free ride from Dumbledore, but Draco wouldn't put it past the old wizard.

Draco shifted and pulled his school bag open, reaching in for his money bag. He counted out eleven sickles, and handed them to Stan. "Just the one bed, then, 'eh?" Stan asked, sounding a bit confused, but not saying anything outright.

"Yes," Harry confirmed, and stared back at Stan, daring him to ask questions. His previous experience with Stan had been sworn that nothing too much would be asked about why this or why that, all wondering what the hell Harry was doing.

"Alright," Stan said, stepping back up the steps into the bus. " _Neville_ ," he added, with a wink and a grin. Harry smiled back weakly, and they made their way into the bus, Harry in front of Draco. There wasn't anyone on the first floor, so they stayed there. The bed they chose, right at the back, was almost under the cover of the stairs, so they wouldn't be spied on by Stan, though they heard him say, "Oi, Ern, look who it is!" but nothing more than that.

Harry sat down first and Draco eyed the bed like it would ooze slime on him before he sat down beside the other boy. It was quiet for a moment before Draco spoke. "We can't be seen together," he said quietly, and saw Harry nod out of the corner of his eye.

"You're less conspicuous than I am," Harry said. Then, "Hold on." Draco barely had time to ask him what he was talking about before he was tipped right off the bed when the bus suddenly gave a huge lurch, bang, and then they were right in the middle of Muggle London.

"What the fuck," Draco said, getting back up and sitting down, brushing not so invisible dirt off his robe. Harry grinned, but before either of them could speak again, "One more jump, Nev," Stan called back.

"Go on, Ern." True to his word, the bus gave another lurch, though this time Harry grabbed at his stomach as the movement shook through his body. Draco braced himself half against Harry, who he found out wasn't the most stable object right now, and half holding onto the edge of the bed. He turned to look at Harry as he bumped into the other boy, who he noticed seemed to look like he was going to be sick.

He was about to ask, but had to turn away when he saw Harry dry heave, still clutching his stomach. "'ere ya go, you two," Stan called back to them. Draco looked out the window and saw they were in Diagon Alley, right in front of Gringotts. The bus stopped rolling abruptly and this time, Draco was very glad he was holding on. Harry crashed into his side softly when they stopped, and they both stood up at the same time.

The boys looked at each other, and Draco hoped Harry wasn't going to throw up on him unexpectedly. They turned and walked to the front of the bus. "Thanks, Stan; Ernie," Harry said to the men.

"Not a problem, 'Arry," and once again he looked curiously at Draco, who pointedly looked the other way, stepping down the stairs and waiting for Harry. Stan gave Harry a salute before he stepped off the bus, after Draco. The bus gave a loud crack and disappeared.

They didn't speak much as they walked down the street, heading for the Leaky Cauldron. They hadn't spoken, but they were both tired and both knew it. They'd drawn the hoods up on their robes, and intended to keep them that way. No one paid much attention as they paid for one room, and went up the stairs after Tom, the innkeeper. When they reached the room, Draco closed the door behind him and locked it manually, then taking out his wand and fixing a spell over it just to make sure. Harry was too tired to do anything but sleep, and that's just what he did when he got to the bed.

@>*~

Even if some people thought that Harry was a bad omen sometimes, he did always turn around and protect them all from the danger he drew to himself. Rumors were spreading around the school like wildfire, and people had definitely noticed that Harry Potter had disappeared. It was an uneasy feeling around the school, sitting in apprehensive classes full of tense students. Ron and Hermione were dreading when the first person would come up to them and ask where Harry was. The rest of the boys in seventh year barely even had the nerve to ask Ron about his best friend. It seemed no one wanted to ask yet, for fear of finding out something terrible that they might not have wanted to know in the first place.

It was after their Charms class that Ron and Hermione were making their way through the halls to Transfiguration when Neville caught up with them through the crowd. Hermione automatically drew them to the side of the hall so they weren't in the way, and waited for Neville to regain his breath; he had jogged to catch up with them. He'd lost weight since last year, but it still was an effort to dodge around all those students. "The Slytherins are pretty pissed off their Seeker is missing," he said, leaning against the wall. "They'd never forfeit a game, especially not after the last match, but what are they going to do without a Seeker?"

The two teens looked at Neville as he spoke, and at his words, Ron scoffed, then snorted, almost at the same time, sounding both disgusted and amused. "They'd say," Ron began, "'good riddance!' Malfoy couldn't catch the Snitch for the life of him."

Ron crossed his arms and looked smug for a total of two seconds before, "Ron!" Hermione admonished, smacking his shoulder. Ron didn't look very ashamed of what he'd said, but he averted his eyes. Hermione turned back to Neville, who had been watching them curiously. "Have they thought to find out where he went?"

Neville shook his head. "No. The only teacher they really confide in is Snape, and he's gone." He shrugged. "Do you know why he went to Durmstrang, too? I mean, Harry and Draco were following him, so that's why they'd go there if that's where he went; but why was he there to begin with?"

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other. Should they tell Neville? They didn't want the whole school knowing. They knew Neville would keep Harry and Draco's 'relationship' a secret, but if he knew exactly why Snape went to a school renown for teaching the Dark Arts and probably being in league with the Dark Lord himself, would he be able to keep that a secret? Then there was the fact that Neville seemed to keep his and Blaise's relationship quiet, but this was a whole lot more damaging than it would be for those two if people knew.

"Dumbledore wouldn't tell us much," Hermione finally said, deciding to simply not mention what he had and hadn't told them. "I mean," she continued, "he barely confirmed that's where Snape even went, so, I doubt he would have just let slip any little detail."

Neville looked confused for a moment, but nodded. It seemed he liked being in on what was going on. They'd never really spent that much time with Neville, but they all knew quite a bit about each other after seven years. "I'll see you guys outside," he finally said. They watched as he walked in the opposite direction of going outside. Their next class was Care of Magical Creatures, and they were pretty sure that Neville was going to find Blaise. It was either that, or else he was really, really lost, or had to pee.

Shaking her head after Neville, Hermione and Ron turned and headed towards the stairs. She knew it would have to be a pretty big something he'd needed to talk to Snape for if Harry was stupid enough to do what he did. They needed to find out what that something was, but how could they do that? "This is about to explode, isn't it?" Ron asked, interrupting her thoughts. Hermione nodded as they made their way down the other set of stairs to the main floor.

@>*~

Care of Magical Creatures went by without a lot of questions. Most students were weary about being near one of Hagrid's newest finds. Hagrid had asked them if they knew where Harry had gone, but they feigned ignorance and Hagrid left it at that, nodding and mumbling to himself that he hoped Harry hadn't gotten into something dangerous. Over the past seven years, Harry had done a lot of things for Hogwarts besides various triumphs over minions of Voldemort and the Dark Lord himself, so it wasn't that far-fetched for people to think that. Since Dumbledore hadn't held a teachers' conference about Harry, he assumed everything was fine and left it at that.

When their class was let out for the day, they headed straight for Professor Lupin's office. They had wanted to speak with him, especially since they weren't sure what to tell their housemates whenever one of them asked if they knew where Harry was. They knocked on his office door, but there was no answer. Trying the handle, they found it unlocked, so they entered the room and decided to wait for him. They sat in the two seats across from Lupin's desk, and Ron asked, "You reckon he was able to get hold of Snape?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, sounding sad. She sniffled quietly, and it made Ron feel a bit uncomfortable. Even after how many years with Ginny, he hadn't gotten used to a girl crying. What could he do? Pat her on the back and say 'buck up'? He barely even realized he'd completely accepted her hand in his own when she reached over, holding onto him tightly. After a few more sniffles, it was quiet as they waited, but they didn't have to wait more than five minutes before the door opened. They didn't let go even when Lupin walked into the room, hand to his nose and a jar full of thorny looking twigs.

"Oh!" he said, startled when he looked up to find the two waiting for him. "Hello." He tried a shaky smile before he set the jar down on a clear space on the desk, which was otherwise filled with scrolls and old books, and a few odd trinkets. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he turned to the side, but not enough, because when he took his hand from his nose, they saw blood.

"Professor Lupin," Hermione gasped. "What happened?" He seemed tense at her question, and simply dabbed at his nose and sniffed experimentally before turning back to them.

"Oh, nothing, Hermione." He swallowed, dabbing at his nose again. "Just a little nose bleed." He folded the cloth quickly and stuffed it back in his pocket, not letting them see how much had oozed from his nostril, which he'd cleaned the best he could without a mirror.

"Why did it start?" Ron asked, rubbing his thumb over Hermione's absently. He frowned at the light red smear down to Lupin's upper lip. Lupin sighed, pulling his chair back slowly and sitting down in it. He'd just walked half way around the castle, from the fourth floor where his office was located, down to the ground floor and outside to the greenhouses and all the way back. It felt good to sit.

He wasn't finished, though, no matter how much he wished to shut everything out and lie down for a while. Classes were over, at least, but he wasn't done yet. He'd decided already that he'd better tell them what was going on, knowing they'd want to know about any progress in locating the boys. "I've been trying to contact Severus by telepathy. It's..." he gave a slight gesture with his hands, completely not satisfied with the word he was about to choose, "painful, to say the least, for the person who initiates the connection; especially, if they're inexperienced."

"But why would you want to talk to him through telepathy if it's painful?" Ron asked, frowning. He shrugged, and in the process jostled his and Hermione's joined hands off their perch on the arm rest of his chair. Instead of breaking contact, they simply lifted and rested them down on the rest again. "Couldn't you just use an owl?"

Remus shook his head, closing his eyes for a moment as the movement didn't improve the state of his headache. "It's safer this way for everyone. Owls can be intercepted and I haven't a clue if they even have any fireplaces connected to the Floo Network, plus I didn't want to chance anyone finding out," Remus said, trying not to sniff at the slow trickle he began to feel starting in his nose again. "Anyway, you two wanted to see me for something?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. "We've been getting a lot of students asking where Harry is, even if it's just in passing and not a direct question, everyone has noticed. Even some of the Slytherins are wondering, though they don't necessarily think Malfoy's with him, they're getting angry that their Seeker is missing, too." Hermione stopped to look at Ron for a moment, and he only nodded, not having anything else to add, really. "What should we do?" she asked, looking back to Remus. She wished she felt there was something more she could do about the situation, and there was only so long they could keep dodging questions until someone went searching for the answers themselves, or began to put clues together.

"I'll talk to the Headmaster tomorrow morning at the meeting. If worse comes to worse, tell them you either don't know or that Harry's out running a few errands for Dumbledore, or is in a training exercise," Lupin replied, rubbing his temple. There were flaws in all of those options, and all he really wished was that Harry hadn't run off for seemingly no apparent reason. "Either way, I'll find out how to address questions when I speak to Dumbledore."

"Thank you, sir," Ron said, catching the frustrated and tired looks cross the older man's face. Hermione nodded and they stood from their seats, making their way to the door and out of Remus' office. They just hoped no matter what Harry and Malfoy were doing, that Harry would make it back in one piece.

@>*~

Harry woke up to dim sunlight filtering through the closed curtains over the window. He squinted at it, trying to recall where exactly he was. The last thing he remembered was the Knight Bus, and vaguely walking down Diagon Alley. He closed his eyes again, sighing. He wanted to smack himself for being so stupid as to run off like that. The thing was, Snape was the only one he could talk to about this; he had to find him. Not because he really wanted to talk to the man, but to Harry, it seemed far better not to spread this around. He couldn't tell Lupin, and he wasn't even sure that the full moon was over. It might be too late before he could talk to his father's friend.

As much as everyone had wanted to pretend Lupin hadn't been ceremoniously sidled into Sirius' place as his guardian after the accident in the Department of Mysteries, Harry knew what all had happened, too. He wished it didn't have to happen how it did, but he was glad to have Lupin. He never wanted to make the man think he wasn't thankful for it, but they all knew it wasn't the same. Of course, it wasn't the same as it would have been if he'd had his father alive and well, and his mother, too, for that matter, but that was the past. He couldn't change that. He'd had a chance to save Sirius' life, though, and he'd screwed that up. He couldn't change that either, no matter how many times he wished he could.

Harry sighed into the pillow before starting to prop himself up on his elbows. He'd woken up on his stomach, and grimaced at the sore muscles in his neck. Turning over, he squinted before reaching back to the other side of the bed for his glasses that seemed to have fallen off in his sleep. He didn't recall moving at all from the time he'd walked through the door and fell onto the bed. He put them on, and looked around the room, seeing Draco sprawled, as much as one could sprawl in a chair, on the other side of the room, near the fireplace.

Harry wondered if Draco had taken them off for him, and he sat up on the bed, watching the other boy for a moment. Slowly, a smile started to tug its way onto Harry's lips as he watched. He'd never seen Draco sleep before, and it looked... strange. He supposed he wanted to laugh, but was too tired still to do so. Draco looked like nothing Harry would have pictured he would look while asleep. He wondered if Draco was even really asleep, or was just pretending, and actually listening to his movements.

"Draco?" he asked to the silent figure.

"What?" Draco asked right back.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked automatically, not even sure why. It did seem like the Slytherin not to actually be sleeping. He'd probably not have said a thing at all even if Harry got up and started dancing around naked like a moon calf.

"Waiting for you to get your arse out of bed so we can go and get some more money, and figure out what the hell you've gotten us into."

Harry looked affronted for a moment, though not sure why, because Draco still didn't have his eyes open. He frowned a moment before chuckling. "I meant," Harry started, "what are you doing over there?" He gestured to the chair when Draco had opened his eyes and straightened up where he sat.

Draco just looked back at him, a serious expression on his face, looking absolutely nothing like he had a moment ago. "I, uh, didn't think you'd want me over there." He gestured himself to the bed where there was still a Harry shaped indent in the covers. He had been too tired to even pull them over himself, Harry realized, when he looked down at the bed.

"Oh," Harry said quietly. Draco shuffled his robes a bit, and Harry watched, eyes tracking the impersonal movements of the fabric as the other boy moved. "It would have been okay," he said, after a moment, though just as quietly.

Draco looked up and sneered. "Well, thanks for the tip, Potter." He got up from the chair and stretched his arms up in the air and twisting to the side, cracking his back and making Harry wince at the sharp sound.

Frowning, Harry stood up himself, and went to the bag that he'd brought. He'd dropped it just shortly after coming through the door. "Are you going to be a prat for the rest of the day?" Harry asked, taking the bag back to the bed and opening it to pull out his heavier cloak. He'd just worn his robes the night before, and it did feel a bit chilly in here, and it was no doubt even cooler outside.

"What do you want me to be, Harry?" Draco asked back, seeming serious now, despite his earlier snark. Harry looked at him, and didn't answer. To Harry, he looked like he had something to regret, which was something Harry had felt more than once in his life, and knew that feeling quite well. Draco turned and got his cloak from the arm of the chair over which he'd slung it, then put it on. "Come on."

It was near to eleven-thirty in the morning and there weren't that many people in the downstairs area of the Leaky Cauldron. Tom barely noticed them walk by as he was busy stacking mugs behind the bar, and not many of the scant patrons even looked at them. They'd lifted their hoods up over their heads before they left the hall outside of their room. It wouldn't be that strange to see them without being able to see their faces, since some people kept their hoods up all the time, though they were usually the shady type of wizards, and got strange looks from proper witches as they walked down the streets.

Then, of course, it would simply draw attention to their cloaks if their faces weren't shown. That a Slytherin and a Gryffindor was likely to look a bit odd if people noticed, but it was something they'd have to deal with. They'd put Harry's smaller bag, which was now a lot smaller after his heavy cloak was taken out of it, inside of Draco's. Draco had hoisted it over his shoulder as they left the bar, but outside, he gave the bag to Harry to position the strap of it over top of his badge, successfully hiding most of it in the process. It'd be easier to accept a Slytherin out of school than a Gryffindor.

Their first stop was Gringotts, and they made good time down the street to the wizarding bank, and got inside. Harry hadn't brought his key, and Draco had his own with him, and he took his hood down for the goblin, but it seemed alright. The goblin looked at him curiously, and Draco stared right back into the old wrinkled face until the creature hurrmphed and got off his stool to lead them to the vault. As long as Harry didn't have to be exposed, it was alright, Harry thought. No one was out to get Draco, were they? His father was in prison, but that didn't have anything to do with Draco, did it?

He almost wanted to say something about it, to try and sympathize with the loss of a father, but he had absolutely no idea how to broach the subject. He wondered how Draco felt about it; he certainly looked fine, and it wasn't as if people hadn't mentioned it. The ride to the vault was as pleasant as ever, and Harry didn't see inside of the vault before it was slammed shut again, but the heavy looking bag that Draco had scooped some coins into did look, well, heavy. When they got back to the main chamber, they changed half into Muggle currency, which Draco gave to Harry so he didn't have to deal with the odd looking papers.

They were sufficiently prepared for Muggle inhabited areas now, and since they had their school uniforms on under their robes and cloaks, they would simply look as if they were on a vacation from a boarding school. They wouldn't cause much suspicion with Muggles if they didn't have their robes on; that was the big thing. It was the wizards they had to worry about, and the little oddities that made up the difference. A Muggle wouldn't spot them, but a wizard would.

It wasn't even half past noon by the time they got back to their room at the inn, and they decided to eat before going back to sleep until it was dark before they went on again. After a quick meal, they entered the room, Draco ahead of Harry, and the blond went straight to the fireplace and started the wood on fire, heating the room quickly from the blaze. Harry felt a wave of warmth settle over him as he set the bag down beside the bed.

Hesitating for a moment before he decided what he was going to do, Harry started by taking his cloak off, followed by his robes. It wasn't like Draco hadn't seen his body before, but it still felt strange to be undressing with the other boy in the room, considering they hadn't exactly left off on the right foot the last time they'd been more.. intimate. Regardless, Harry wanted a somewhat proper night of sleep before they headed off. Draco stood from the fire, and the first thing he saw was a large amount of skin.

He swallowed, fighting the urge to ask one of the most stupid questions his brain seemed to think of. What are you doing?, he wanted to ask. If it wasn't obvious enough for his stressed mind, Harry was undressing for bed. Even though he felt a bit uncomfortable, he wasn't making any effort not to watch Harry basically strip down to everything but his trousers. When Harry turned around, Draco didn't look away. He still didn't feel like he had anything to hide, but he supposed he should feel a bit more self conscious of what he was displaying after what happened between them.

Draco's eyes were darting around Harry's smooth stomach, but his eyes slowly drifted upwards to meet Harry's. They looked at each other for a second, and Draco felt the urge to scowl, but held it back when Harry gestured to the bed. Sighing only loud enough for himself to hear it, Draco shrugged before taking off his robe and shirt, leaving his trousers on like Harry, and taking his socks off.

Harry didn't take his socks off. Draco hated that, and spared a moment to glare at the socked feet as they walked around to the other side of the bed. They reached to pull back the covers at the same time, and that just struck both of them as awkward. Harry got in first with a sigh of relief at the comfort, though at the same time, Draco could see his body tense when the Slytherin sat down on the other side.

The bed was big enough for the two of them not to have to cling to each other to keep from falling off the edges, so there shouldn't have to be any problems with bumping into each other. Draco slid his legs under the covers, and they both rustled the covers around for a minute before they seemed happy with the arrangement. Draco laid on his back, unable to find another way that his knees or his arse didn't just barely touch the other boy.

Harry had turned on his side, facing away from Draco, who stared up at the ceiling. He could feel Harry's heat, and it was strange, and completely distinguishable from the heat from the fire. It wasn't like he had never been in bed with anyone before, but this was... different. He didn't know what it was about it, but it felt odd, and he couldn't put a better word to it. There was a part of him that wanted to do more than sleep, but another part made him feel horrible about past indiscretions, freezing him to the spot. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Harry shifted slightly, and that was the only other sound in the room that Draco heard before they fell asleep.

@>*~

In the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were seated at the Gryffindor table. They were trying to eat moderately fast, since they had a Prefects' meeting that afternoon, and they couldn't be late. It didn't take long before they were finished with their meal, and they gathered their bags and got up from the table, heading to the halls. Neither of them said anything as they walked down the quiet corridor. They both had things on their mind, ranging from the meeting, exams, and loose strings on robes to confusing questions and things dealing with Harry; neither one of them wanted to talk much, anyway.

When they reached the door leading into the Prefects' meeting room, Ron opened the door and pulled it open for Hermione to walk through, then stepped into the room himself. Most of the time, the room was locked, with only Prefects having keys to gain access, and only when meetings were scheduled was the door unlocked. Hermione smiled at Ron as they took their seats, waiting for the meeting to come to order. Millicent Bulstrode looked a bit irritated (more than usual, at least) at having the entire Slytherin portion of Prefect duties falling solely to her, since Draco had mysteriously disappeared.

It felt a bit strange to Hermione, as she sat on one of the smaller chairs, though it was still very comfortable. Ron sat on a sofa, at the end nearest to her chair, which was situated right beside the other piece of furniture. She'd hesitated for a brief moment before sitting down, wondering where Harry and Draco had been. There was a clear image in her mind, no matter how much she didn't quite want it there, of what the boys had been doing before Harry made it back to Gryffindor Tower, but there sure wasn't any evidence left now. Hermione frowned slightly, making a mental note on her 'to do' list to mention to Harry, if he ever came back, that it was rather rude to let the house-elves clean up his mess, especially the crudest type of messes that her brain insisted they'd created.

She suppressed the urge to look under the furniture for items of clothing that might have been left lying about, and didn't think she would have been able to set foot inside the room if there were going to be weird stains on the carpeting. No, she decided she wouldn't complain about the house-elves' neurotic cleaning habits, no matter the mess. Looking over to Ron, she could tell he was thinking along the same lines as Hermione had been. He inspected the couch warily before sitting down, hoping he wasn't sitting on something his best friend may have potentially shagged on. It wasn't as if he was sickened by the thought of Harry's bodily fluids, but it was just a bit icky to sit in a puddle of them, or even a dried up once-puddle of them; or Malfoy's.

Ron glanced over to Millicent as well, and quickly looked away when she turned her angry glare towards him. Judging by that, he really didn't suppose the Slytherins had found out or heard any word about Malfoy's whereabouts. They were bound to be upset, for the disorder that tended to follow the blond's absences, whether it be for a few days in the infirmary, or being called home by his parents for Merlin knew what. The loss of their Seeker was beginning to penetrate a lot of conversations in the avid groups of Quidditch fans, and it was obvious the Slytherins were going to be asking questions.

The meeting was called to order as soon as all the Prefects were gathered, sans Malfoy, of course. Hermione didn't think the meetings served a purpose unless there was a certain issue to be dealt with, so the majority of items discussed were trivial things that ended up simply being nattered on about until a new topic was introduced. There was one current event that needed Prefect chaperones for the third years on the upcoming Hogsmeade weekend. It wasn't surprising when Millicent volunteered, since it was widely known that she usually never had much anything much to do on those weekends.

After they were selected, Millicent and Ernie, there was a bit of chatter about the trip, though it was more on a personal level, so they ended the meeting. As the majority of the group continued talking as they made their way to the door, Hermione noticed Millicent simply shrug her shoulders when Padma asked where Malfoy had gotten off to. Not everyone had noticed Draco was gone, but in smaller groups where he usually made more than his share of rude comments, it was a difference big enough to take notice of. Even though Malfoy was technically an important person within his own house, it seemed they didn't really care that he wasn't around, except for the fact that he played Seeker.

Ron kept reminding her that he wasn't even that good, but that didn't matter at the moment. They couldn't very well kick him off the team with a father like Lucius Malfoy. Despite being in Azkaban, no one wanted to upset Malfoy too much, because you never knew whose parents would suffer for their children's indiscretions in regards to Draco. They hardly realized that they were the only two students left in the room when the door clicked shut softly behind the last Prefect to leave. Hermione broke the thoughtful silence, letting a frown crease her features. "I hope Harry's alright."

Hermione looked over to Ron then, and he looked worried as well, but he patted the cushion next to him on the couch. Hermione stood from the chair and sat down beside Ron, their arms brushing against each other before Ron lifted his. "I reckon he is," he said, resituating his arm around Hermione's shoulders, behind her neck. "I mean, this is Harry we're talking about; he always makes it out alright."

Hermione smiled at that, even though Ron might not have been able to see it. She'd leaned over to rest against his side, and it felt very comfortable. She wasn't so much worried about whether Harry could take care of himself, because she knew he could. What was bothering her was what had made him leave in the first place. Was he being careful enough in the way he traveled? Did Voldemort find some way to draw Harry away from Hogwarts for some devious reason? And, what she really couldn't figure out, why on earth did he think Snape had all the answers to whatever questions were plaguing his mind at the moment?

Ron had calmed down from his angry outburst at Harry the other day, though he couldn't say he wasn't still hurt over Harry keeping his so called 'relationship' with the Slytherin a secret. Besides shagging their best friend, Ron hadn't a clue as to why Malfoy was involved in this, unless it was an evil reason. He'd come up with lots of those, only to have Hermione shake her head and discard them faster than he could think up another far-fetched idea. As well as that, he was also still wondering what the hell Harry saw in Malfoy, of all people, but there had to be something. If Ron knew his friend, Harry wouldn't be with Malfoy for no reason at all.

He couldn't see the allure of sleeping with one's house rival, but it seemed like the 'in' thing these days. Harry was doing it, Neville was doing it, and who knew all the others that could be. Ron didn't see the draw to snarky prats, but whatever floated their boats. At his side, Ron felt Hermione tense, and he brought his hand to her head, stroking her hair back. She lifted her head to look at him, worry written across her protruding bottom lip. "He'll be okay, Hermione," he said to her, smiling gently.

She looked back into his eyes for a moment before responding with, "I know." It didn't feel right for her to look away then, so she didn't. There was something about the tone of Ron's voice, the way it rumbled as he spoke in a low voice, reassuring her. Ron looked down at her, not knowing what to think. The way she was looking at him really was starting to make him feel uncomfortable and excited at the same time. Slowly, almost without realizing it, Ron began to lift her chin up with his hand that had worked its way from her head and around the back of her neck.

Hermione didn't resist at all to the gentle pull, looking into Ron's eyes before closing them and letting her lips meet his, placing a chaste kiss onto each other's mouths. Pulling back a moment later, Ron hoped he looked more collected than he felt as he searched his friend's face for any type of regret. Hermione opened her eyes slowly, knowing he was watching her, and she let a smile ghost over her lips before running her tongue out between them briefly before leaning towards him for more.

Ron accepted, naturally, and tensed for a moment when he felt Hermione's tongue between his slack lips, teasing him for admittance. He opened his mouth wider, and at the same time leaned down a bit more, pressing their mouths tighter together. Hermione stroked her tongue over Ron's, luring him into the kiss, and she held back the small moan as he deepened the kiss. It was tentative, yet full of emotions, and they could both sense they wanted to go further.

Hermione shifted her body, sitting up straighter, and letting Ron's arm fall down her back to settle at her waist. He began to pull her towards himself, and if he had been thinking at all at that moment, he might have said to himself, 'Where do you expect her to go? Your lap?' He stopped pulling, and reached his other arm to her hip, just as she raised her hands to his shoulders, sliding them up the sides of his neck. Then, with a final lick to his lips, Hermione pulled back, already half sitting on the edge of the sofa, smiling back at Ron.

Ron looked dazed, and he certainly felt like it. He could still taste Hermione on his lips when he unconsciously licked them, staring back at hers, damp with his own saliva. "Was that okay?" he asked, finding it hard to look at her eyes, but he did, and was glad to see the warmth and underlying concern there. He supposed he knew what it was from: Harry. He knew she was worried, and he had to admit it didn't quite feel especially right going further than a kiss right now, not when their friend could be in mortal danger.

"It was good." She smiled, lifting a hand to her lips and gently running her finger in at the creases, making sure the slight amount of lip gloss she had on wasn't smeared. "I just don't feel right... going any farther, right now." Ron nodded, looking down again, not focusing on anything, though if he had been, he'd have tried to look somewhere else, not at Hermione's waist, or the curves of her breasts, which he'd hardly realized were so beautiful. "No," she started, almost mistaking his head's decline as rejection, "No. I enjoyed the kiss, I'm just not sure I'd be able to continue knowing that Harry might be in trouble."

Ron nodded again, unable to help himself from trailing his eyes up her body a bit as he looked up at her. "I understand," he said, smiling slightly. "It's okay. So, the kiss was good?" He felt a bit sheepish at having so blatantly looked at her body, but she didn't seem to mind, and simply smiled at him knowingly.

"It was very good." She stood from the couch, extending a hand to Ron to help him up. He reached down to the floor beside his feet and picked up the strap of his bag, and slung it over his shoulder as he took her hand, and stood from the sofa.

"I'm glad," Ron said, grinning before they started towards the door, down the corridors. They had time, they didn't have to rush this, and she was right; there were more important things to worry about. First, they had classes to attend and Harry to worry about. Neither of them were going anywhere, and they were definitely going to make sure this particular issue was revisited.

@>*~


	6. Chapter 6

The fire was crackling in the background, heating the room many more degrees than it would normally be without the flames. Lupin almost wished he could put the fire out, but he knew that wouldn't be the best idea. His arms were propped on the surface of his desk on his elbows, and the palms of his hands were pressed against his temples, fingers twining into his damp hair. The front of it fell over his forehead, which was equally wet with sweat, and the occasional bead would trickle its way down the bridge of his nose to drip on to the desk. He'd cleared his books away, leaving only the wooden surface and a goblet of water to his side.

The handkerchief was laid beside the goblet as well, still having the blood soaked into the fabric from his earlier attempts, and fresh stains from only moments ago. He was in pain, and at the apex of the process he was so dreadfully becoming familiar with. Remus' breath came as a heavy, drawn out pant, and the few times a new spike of pain would strike him, a sharp gasp was his reply. He didn't know how many times he could do this; in the morning if he wasn't successful tonight, then tomorrow afternoon, and tomorrow night. He was becoming weary, and almost wished for the bone twisting misery and ache the Change afflicted on him every full moon.

Lupin bared his teeth, gritting them tight together as another white hot needle felt like it was being poked into the skin under his fingers when he brought them down to press against his temples. If anyone was there to witness his actions, they'd be extremely frightened. When Remus pried his eyes open, he caught the distorted reflection of himself in the mirror that hung on the wall opposite the fireplace. The image was blurred, his eyes watering from the pain. He couldn't cry out, as he'd not sound proofed his office, and wouldn't chance having a student walking by want to know what was going on. There was also the fact that if he did yell, it would sound rather on the vicious side.

Squeezing his eyes shut again, Lupin pressed through the pain, trying to force his thoughts to Severus' mind once again. He'd been there for two and a quarter hours, and he'd let his mind stray at several points; there wasn't much allowance for other thoughts to run through one's mind as they were trying to accomplish this particular feat. It was due to odd word associations that his mind wandered. Repeating the same thing over and over again tended to trigger thoughts outside of what he was concentrating on, and he, they all, couldn't afford to waste any more time.

With the few interruptions his brain had insisted on making exceptions for, even in his determined state, Remus had maintained a constant stream of projection as he repeated the relayed message again and again. He felt another, heavier flow of liquid down his face, and recognized it as blood. His nose had started bleeding again from the pressure he was exerting inside his head, and he itched to wipe it away and give up for the night, rest from the pain he'd caused himself; he couldn't let Harry down.

Suddenly, he felt a brief, sharp snap in his brain, and he quickly projected the message he'd prepared, as strongly as he could, 'Snape, Harry and Draco have followed you to Durmstrang. Lupin.' He had wondered earlier if speaking it out loud would help the connection, or make it worse. One would suppose it would lessen the meaning of telepathic speech, so he'd not bothered to attempt it, as well as for the fact he sounded ridiculous reciting a message to someone who wasn't even in the room. Remus was unable to repress the sigh that escaped his lips as the tension was broken, immediately relaxing the more tense parts of his anatomy.

He opened his eyes, still repeating the message in his mind, and his forehead creased into an expression of pure agony as he searched for a way to hold onto the abruptly loosening connection he'd established. There was no way for him to maintain the mental contact, and he reluctantly relaxed, letting go of the thread, allowing it to disappear. There was nothing else he could do for the moment, and just as the snap had signaled the bond, it did the same in reverse, leaving him, fading, and his vision followed suit.

Lupin gasped at the darkness that over took his eyes before he slid his arms down to cross over each other, collapsing over the desk. He tried to stay awake, but it was a losing battle at the moment, and he lowered his head onto his arms as slowly and gently as he could as consciousness slipped away from him. The last thought that ran through his head was vague hopes that Snape had received the message, that it wasn't simply a delusion from the pain, and the final coherence of thought was, 'please, let him be all right.' Sweat soaked strips of hair that were becoming a bit too shaggy fell over his eyes, and his breathing slowed as Lupin fell into a deep sleep.

@>*~

It was cold in the castle, much more so than the dungeons at Hogwarts. Snape had been staring at the fire in the room that had been allocated to him, and that was about the only thought that he'd allowed himself to think about. If for nothing else, this 'trip' would provide him with time to simply forget about everything so he could sit in his room and brood about nothing in particular. To be honest, he hated it here, but he had to come. If he hadn't, it would have looked suspicious; he wasn't one of the best spies Dumbledore had for no good reason at all, you know. He did his job well, and prided himself on it.

There were just the times, like this, that he felt like stomping his foot down and crossing his arms, and point blank refusing to cooperate. Severus looked down into the cup he held in his hands, half full of fire whiskey. It was one thing to show up drunk, it was another to get drunk while waiting and having nothing else to do while waiting for the Dark Lord. Impeccable timing, that one, Snape thought to himself, lifting the cup to his lips. Just as he'd swallowed a mouthful of the liquor, Snape turned suddenly in his chair, looking to the door. He frowned, cocking his head slightly to listen.

He could have sworn he heard voices outside. It was silent for another moment, and he didn't hear anything more. He was just about to turn back to the fire when he heard it again. The voice was familiar, but it could have been any number of old acquaintances that now swarmed the ranks of the Death Eaters. 'Snape,' it said, and he frowned again. There was no doubt in his mind that he was imaging the voice, and he could just ignore someone at the door, calling him to come out to some meeting or another, but... that wasn't it.

It didn't feel right. It was almost as if someone - _Snape_ \- was in his mind. The expression slipped from his face as he turned slowly towards the fire, careful not to make much noise, and he closed his eyes. Allowing his mind to truly focus entirely on nothing, he listened. _Harry,_ he heard, then, in his mind. What about Harry? It could simply be his subconscious thinking extremely loud at a bad time for him to pick up little words, but that theory didn't seem right either. No, there was something prickling at his senses, and it wasn't any part of himself. _Draco;_ again, that could be anything, from old Potions class memories to recent, disgusting revelations.

 _Followed._ At that, Snape opened his eyes, and almost felt the subtle connection that had been beginning, almost begging, to form in his mind, break. He willed it to stay put, keeping his mind open. _Durmstrang - Lupin,_ and the last word was almost a whisper before Snape came to full alert. "Lupin," he repeated, testing the name. It didn't fit in his thoughts, and he frowned deeply, taking another drink from his cup. There was no reason his mind would pop up a thought of Remus Lupin out of no where, but - wait. Followed?

Sitting forward in the chair, Snape began to put the words together. Harry and Draco... followed... Oh, dear Merlin, those imbeciles, Severus thought. Had the boys followed him to Durmstrang? It could be entirely possibly, and he'd never know until it was too late, and Voldemort would have caught the boy. Harry's life would be on his head, and he would never be able to live with it. They wouldn't be able to catch up with him so quickly, though. Lupin must have been trying to contact him telepathically, though it was clear the werewolf was inexperienced. He wasn't great himself, but he had to give Lupin credit for forcing that much through.

Snape would have sympathized with the pain he knew Remus must be feeling right now, but he had more important matters at hand now. As much as he disliked the boy, and his dearly departed father, Snape could never kill someone who didn't deserve it. Damnit, Lupin! Severus brought a hand to his face, covering it for a moment. Lupin had to tell him somehow, and Snape had to admit that he'd picked the least likely way to be detected. Though, if Voldemort sensed unease within him, he'd automatically search Snape's mind for wary thoughts; and he'd run straight into a mental image of Harry being tortured.

Well, he supposed that wouldn't exactly put the Dark Lord off; maybe alight with pride at Severus for being so creative. But he would go deeper, not trusting anyone, not even his presumed faithful servants. Snape drained the last of the whiskey from his cup and decided to wander the halls for a while. He sincerely doubted he'd run into the boys, though he had no idea how they were traveling, but he really didn't think they'd be there yet. He'd Apparated, knowing exactly where to go, but they didn't; even if they left the same night, they'd still be behind. They wouldn't be stupid enough, he hoped, to run around the corridors during the day, if they were indeed coming to the castle.

To begin with, the night time wasn't that much better, but at least a majority of dangers were asleep in the dark. As well as that, no one just waltzed into a castle surrounded by Dark Arts. It was far more undetectable than simply being Unplottable. Someone would have to know how to get inside, but, he supposed dismally, that Draco might remember how to do just that. There was a bit more depth to that relationship than he'd previously thought, though he made it a point not to think about it as he slipped out of his room and into the hall.

@>*~

The room was filled with darkness as far as Draco could see, which wasn't very far, when he woke up. He squinted into the black, blinking his eyes for them to adjust to the very small amount of moonlight filtering through the curtain. It took him a moment to recall where he was, and was about to sit up abruptly, but a body next to him shifted closer, brushing warm, smooth skin against his own. Draco relaxed at that, memory flooding back to him; he was in the Leaky Cauldron, with Harry.

He'd planned to get out of bed when he woke up, and get on with this ludicrous plan. Nothing seemed to be going correctly, when he became instantly aware that Harry had turned over, and was touching him. It felt good, surprisingly, and Draco remembered the softer touches they'd shared once before... but, oh, god. They didn't do anything, did they? They'd both voluntarily got into the bed together, and he didn't remember doing anything with the other boy, which was good.

It was bad enough to have done what he had, but to be guilty of it perhaps a second time was going completely too far. At those thoughts slithering into his mind, Draco reaffirmed that they hadn't done anything. He would have remembered it, unless Harry drugged him, or something, or he was blanking out and doing things he wasn't aware of. Like having mushy, lovey sex with Harry Potter. _Well, it would be better than half raping him against a locker_ , he thought darkly, and promptly felt like he needed a kick in the groin for that.

How could he ever expect Harry to forgive his vile behavior; and he couldn't even believe he'd actually done it. Self-pity and regret were swept away when Draco felt an arm snake across his stomach, coming to lie over his waist just where his trousers came up to. _Okay, this just got uncomfortable._ Draco desperately wanted to move, but he couldn't. It felt... nice, having Harry near him like this, even if it did leave him feeling out of his usual depths. He looked over, the dark room in clearer focus than it had been when he first opened his eyes, and could now see the plane of Harry's back.

It almost glowed with the few scattered rays of moonlight it picked up, splaying them across his skin. Draco's eyes trailed up from Harry's back, over his arm, and he saw how muscular it was, which really shouldn't have surprised him. Even knowing Harry as being an active Quidditch player, he'd never imagined that the thin boy would have such muscle structure under his robes, and it definitely looked good, too. He'd woken up half hard, which normally wouldn't have bothered him in the slightest, but looking at the boy passively draped over him didn't help matters. It certainly didn't help by taking a deep breath, which only served to move Harry's arm down further, lower on his crotch to brush against his cock through his pants.

He tensed his stomach involuntarily after that, and that only repeated the touch backwards, and he really knew he should stop. Guilt was not something he needed an extra helping of right now, at least not any more than he deserved, but when he felt fingers gently stroking his side, he held his breath. Harry was awake. The random swirls of Harry's fingers over his bare skin were burning into him, warming the skin under the digits. Trying to ignore it wouldn't do any good if his cock persisted in becoming any harder, and all Draco could do was to lie there.

Harry knew he'd clued Draco in by the slight movement of his fingertips that he was awake, but now he couldn't stop. He wasn't even sure if Draco wanted to do anything at all, if he was ready for it, or what. That thought struck him as a bit ironic, seeing as the damage was inflicted the other way around on the scale for who would be ready for another sexual experience sooner than the other. Harry didn't even know if Draco knew where this would go if he continued, though he was pretty sure the blond wasn't that oblivious.

If the hard evidence he could feel pressing against his arm was any indication, Harry was pretty sure Draco knew what was going on. Now, the question was, what should he do? Should he move at all, or pretend he was still asleep and innocently roll over, avoiding a potentially hurtful situation? Draco's arm was under all of the pillows, so technically Harry wasn't lying on it, but then he sort of was, since he was effectively pinning it down. Draco couldn't move it unless he wanted Harry's head to fall about three inches, and that would definitely wake him up, if he hadn't already been awake.

Not directly resting his head on any part of Draco's body, it still felt a bit odd for Harry to be found with his head, although with a pillow in between, over the other boy's appendage. Draco wanted to move his arm, but he knew that would definitely provoke some speech between the two of them, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to deal with Harry waking up right now, in a bed with him, no less, regardless of how it would look to a third party right now. Harry wasn't even that close, maybe a little less than a foot away, so it wasn't that big of a deal, right?

Draco had his eyes open, and could feel his arm was trapped while he stared at the ceiling. He knew, beyond a doubt, that Harry was awake, and there was something building between them. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but that simply could have been his own apprehension at what had a chance to happen between them if Harry continued. Harry knew it, too; he could feel it just as well as Draco could, but he knew what it was better than the other boy. Deciding for the both of them, since Harry simply didn't want to get up yet, he shifted until his body was pressed up against Draco's.

"Harry?" Draco asked, finally finding his brain and ordering it to say something that wasn't rude, or lewd, for that matter. Harry didn't say anything for a moment, just kept running his fingers over the side of Draco's body, twining his fingers in an intricate pattern until they brought him up to the button of Draco's trousers.

"What?" Harry asked back, and Draco was about to repeat that word, though preferably with a full question behind it. All he got out was half of the word, before the words faded on his tongue as he either forgot, or simply didn't care anymore what he was going to say. He felt the slight dip of Harry's fingers under the waistband of his trousers, barely realizing that Harry had undone the button, and had already drawn the zipper half way down.

"Uhm," he mumbled, which was pretty damn smart compared to anything else going through his mind at the moment. Meanwhile, he didn't even have a chance to think anything else, no matter how simple it would have been, Harry had pulled the zipper the rest of the way down, and now ran his fingertips along Draco's cock. Draco's heartbeat sped up when he felt the tentative touches, and, his cock, which had apparently decided to call the shots now, twitched in response.

Harry pressed closer to Draco, resting his head on Draco's shoulder, pressing his own hard cock against the other boy's hip. He rocked his hips and Harry could feel his body starting to get hotter, and he cupped his hand over Draco's cock and squeezed gently. "Mmm," Draco let out as a moan, and turned to look at Harry; even though it was still dark, he could still see the other boy in the dim light coming through the thin curtains, which had increased slightly since he'd last had his eyes open. "Are you.. okay?" he asked, hoping Harry would know what he was talking about. He really meant the baby, if there even was one, and Harry wasn't just taking the piss.

"Mmm hmm." Harry hummed agreement against Draco's chest, and Draco felt his cock twitch again. He pushed up against Harry, who chose that moment to slip his hand through the opened hole he had created, having undone the small button holding the split in Draco's boxers closed. As soon as Harry closed his hand around the blond's cock, Draco felt instant heat wrap around him, and it made such wonderful feelings pull at his nerve endings. He realized at that moment that Harry had never touched his cock before now, but that thought only made it that much better.

Harry started stroking Draco's cock with firm, even strokes, running his thumb along the slit on every movement upwards, making Draco draw in a sharp breath. Draco couldn't help but lift his hips in response to Harry's ministrations, occasionally rolling his hips. He almost sat up when Harry took his hand off his rock-hard cock, but he still couldn't because of his arm under the pillows. He tilted his head down to look at the other boy, but Harry wasn't looking at him, he was focused on his cock. All Draco saw was Harry lick a wide strip of saliva onto his palm, and bring it back to the Slytherin's erection.

It didn't take long after seeing that, and feeling the warm wetness around his cock before Draco came with a low gasp. His stomach muscles jerked as Harry coaxed out one of the best orgasms he'd ever had, and then Draco let out the breath he'd held, which relaxed his body, settling into a sated, slightly sweaty slump against the bed while the high from the pleasure ebbed. His breath caught in his throat as he inhaled, smelling the sweat and his come, which he could feel wet on his stomach.

Looking down, Draco could make out a gob of his secretion sticking from his cock and stringing over to Harry's hand as he pulled it away. It wasn't a huge mess, and Draco reached down to grab the sheet with his free hand, to wipe the come off of his belly. Harry leaned over, effectively giving Draco a chance to free his other arm, and absently wiped his hand off on the bedding behind him. He really didn't expect Draco to do anything but stay exactly where he was, but he was pleasantly surprised.

Draco had spared a moment to tuck himself away before he moved on impulse, sitting up under the covers and situating himself between Harry's legs. A brief brush of cool air swept in when Draco lifted the blanket to move, and placed it so it didn't cover his head. Harry didn't mind the air, since he'd been quite hot himself while touching Draco. Draco's hands were cool on his body, and it made the rest of him feel white hot. Draco leaned forward to lick at a nipple briefly before trailing his hands down Harry's chest to unbutton his trousers. Harry didn't quite know what to make of this, since Draco had barely ever done anything for, or to him before.

He wasn't going to complain that it wasn't nice, or that he didn't think it would feel good, because he would have said the opposite of all those things. The blond left small, light kisses down his chest and stomach, though almost light enough not to even be considered kisses to begin with. His hands followed the path his lips had blazed, and there was barely a second to wait for Draco to undo the button and continue on. Harry wasn't sure how this could be completely all right between them, since barely any words had been spoken.

Draco tugged the open trousers down just far enough to expose Harry's cock, pausing a moment to actually look at the other boy. He'd only ever been facing Harry in this position for a very brief span of time, and hadn't taken the time to simply look. Draco almost regretted that his priority in their previous excursions had been to bury his own erection in the dark-haired boy's body, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about it. What he could think of in relation to those thoughts was of the pleasure those memories reminded him of, and it prompted him to stick the tip of his tongue out, lightly running it over the head of the cock in front of him.

Harry let out a whimper at the small swipe of wet tongue, feeling a shiver of anticipation run through his body at the new sensation. No one had ever touched him there before, not with their hands, much less their mouth, and it was better than he ever imagined. If he had to make the choice whether or not to have that afternoon after Care of Magical Creatures on the lawn with Draco, he'd definitely do it again. Draco licked up the entire length before slipping Harry's cock into his mouth. Harry immediately lifted his hips at the feeling, almost amazed that Draco would do this for him.

Draco moaned around Harry's cock, only producing a low hum as he took a moment to taste Harry, licking a drip of precum from the head. He'd sucked cock before, but it had never really been for himself, and he hadn't much enjoyed it. This felt different, and it made him want to put more effort into it. Growing bolder, Draco pulled his mouth away, still holding the erection in his hand, and gave it a few more strokes before he turned his tongue's attention on the head.

Harry was hit with another moment of realization, making him wonder how far he really thought this relationship was going to go. If someone had told him on the first day of school that he'd be having sex with Draco Malfoy, he would have said they were crazy. They really needed to talk, Harry decided; but that would have to wait. Harry lifted his hips, unconsciously seeking more of the wet heat of Draco's mouth as the blond swirled his tongue along the swollen head. Draco pulled his head away at the sudden movement, and loosened his grip on Harry's cock, and Harry thought he might have done something wrong.

Harry cried out in shocked surprise when Draco leaned forward once again, swallowing Harry's cock almost down to the base in one go. Unexpectedly, Draco's gag reflex kicked in at the next sudden thrust into the back of his throat when Harry thrust his hips up hard. Quickly, Draco moved his hands from the bed on either side of the other boy, and held them down on Harry's hips to keep Harry from choking him. Assured of his safety, Draco slowly began sliding his head up and down the length while Harry keened out in pleasure on each stroke down, when his cock would be completely engulfed in Draco's mouth.

Harry forced himself to peel his eyes open, as they were trying to roll back in his head at the sensations running through his body. He wanted to watch this: Draco's mouth wrapped around his cock. Most of his earlier thoughts had been pushed to the side, but he was still surprised that this was happening, considering after everything that they'd done with each other, or to each other. Harry couldn't even bring himself to be angry at Draco anymore, even if he knew Draco deserved some sort of punishment. It didn't quite seem right to have sex so soon, but he couldn't help it.

Especially now, when Harry watched as Draco's mouth stretched wide over his erection, thin sheets of excess saliva sliding down the side to pool around his balls. He could even see a little of Draco's tongue every time the other boy paused to lap around the head. He couldn't bring himself to look away from the blond's lips, and finally he couldn't take any more, and whispered a hoarse warning to the other boy. Draco either didn't hear or chose to ignore him as he continued sucking. "Oh, god," Harry moaned as he came hard into Draco's mouth, watching as the blond pulled back to be able to easily swallow what he was being willingly given.

It was the willingness of Harry's acceptance to forgive him that made Draco feel that this had been alright. He'd rarely had anything to feel guilty about in his life, except for a few times he'd hurt his mother's feelings by doing something for his father that he knew she hadn't condoned. Draco pulled away completely when Harry was finished, and he swallowed one last time before he snaked out his tongue to lick over his bottom lip. Harry had followed Draco's mouth, not tearing his eyes away, and he started to feel his skin cooling. Draco's lips curved into a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes, like he was only doing it because he found an odd bit of amusement in something he saw right then.

Harry looked back at Draco, into the grey eyes, before he swallowed and started to calm his breathing. Draco shifted and Harry lazily watched as the other boy gently pulled his underwear and trousers back onto his hips before Draco lay back down beside Harry. Neither of them felt the need to move immediately, except for a mutual effort to tug the blanket back up over them, then retreating into their own little worlds. Harry lay there, still on his back, and he could feel Draco's light breathing puffing against his shoulder as he played out the images of recent events that had transpired between the two of them.

The one thing that kept coming back to him was the question of whether they were even friends or not, Draco thought as he stared blankly at Harry's shoulder. He sighed, trying to forget about the problems they would face in the next few days, and he hoped they wouldn't die. Even with Harry's obscene ability to escape fatal situations with only a few physical scratches, Draco didn't know what was going to happen. He wasn't oblivious to the fact that they were walking straight into enemy territory, but who was really the enemy for him now? There was a time when he would have gladly led the boy now lying beside him to his death, but he didn't think he could do it now.

Harry was barely drawn out of his thoughts when he felt the bed dip and he turned his head to watch as Draco stood up and walked over to where he'd dropped his shirt. Draco didn't think he could lie around and ponder his allegiance right now; it was a much too stressing issue at the moment. He knew that was something Harry could never forgive him for, but all he could do was hope that things would turn out alright. There weren't many reasons why Snape would be summoned to Durmstrang, and he was dreading the revelation to the other boy that this could turn very bad, very fast.

Draco picked up Harry's shirt from beside his own and tossed it to the other boy now sitting up on the bed without really looking. He shrugged back into his shirt, followed by his socks and then his boots. Draco walked to the chair he'd been in earlier that day, before they went to Gringotts, and sat down to tie his boots. Harry had his shirt on by the time he turned around and glanced up through the hair that had fallen over his eyes. Usually he'd keep it back, but he wasn't in the mood to have his hair stuck to his head. It felt much better to be able to run his hands through it, and maybe Harry would think so, too.

Even though Harry still had his socks on, his feet were a bit chilled and he stuffed them back under the covers as he watched the other boy. He knew they had to get going, and, to be honest, he was a bit confused as to what the next step was. He'd taken a wild stab in the dark, though admittedly it wasn't that wild considering Draco's family, and went into the dungeons the other night, hoping the other boy would help him on his way. Harry didn't quite know what to say in regards to that helping hand, but he decided to save that for later, as well.

Harry sat crossed-legged, legs and feet under the warm cover, and asked, "So?" Draco finished tying the last bow on his boots and looked up to the other boy at the prompting question. Harry looked back, waiting for an answer to his vague confusion. He had no idea what he'd do right now if Draco hadn't have been with him; probably passed out in a forest somewhere.

"Do you have any idea where you're going?" Draco asked, not quite able to stop the slightly superior look that came to his features. He didn't feel any emotion behind the raised lip and appraising eye, but habits were hard to break.

"Er... no," Harry replied, feeling stupid that he had dragged Draco with him and didn't even know exactly where they were headed, but he supposed that was the point in asking him to come along to begin with. "North?" he offered. He looked down at the floor, not seeing Draco shake his head slightly, though he heard the resigned sigh the blond breathed out.

Draco wasn't angry with Harry, just frustrated that he could be so utterly stupid at times. "Do you know where Siberia is, Harry?" he asked conversationally. He lifted his head back up to see the other boy shake his head in the negative. Draco leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his face in his hands for a moment. He, they, didn't have the time to sit and explain why planning would be a valuable asset in future reference before one scampered along into unfamiliar territory. If they were going to make it to Durmstrang before Snape left, they'd have to get a move on.

They didn't even know how long the Potions master was even going to be there, and with Draco's luck, this would be the day that Voldemort started a goddamn war and they'd never see Snape again. They had to be quick on their journey, and that left Draco in charge from now on. He refrained from pulling his hair out in frustrated anger, reminding himself that he'd look much better with the blond than discovering an oddly shaped head if he pulled it all out.

Another part of his mind reminded him that no one said he had to follow Harry anywhere; he had gone of his own accord, and could just as easily back out of it. The only thing was, if they didn't continue now, and, say, headed back to Hogwarts instead, there was no telling if Harry would flip-flop in his thinking again, and demand to go on, with or without him. In the end, it would be all the more a better experience for both of them if they went together rather than alone.

Standing from his seat on the chair near the fireplace, in which the fire had burned itself out during the time they slept, and now was full of dark grey ashes. They had a long way to go, and they needed to hurry. Again, if they were on their way for a purpose, they might as well get it over with. They left the room, making sure they had everything back into their bags, and set off on their way through Diagon Alley and into Muggle London.

@>*~

As the bell rang to signal the end of their Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Ron and Hermione closed their books more slowly than the rest of the class. They had been the first to arrive in the classroom, but only by a few seconds, leaving them no time to speak privately to the professor until after class. They watched the last of the seventh years walk out the door, heading to the Great Hall for lunch. Setting a large and heavy looking book down onto his desk, Remus stepped down from the raised area his desk sat on and came to stand in front of the two teens.

"You wanted to talk to us, sir?" Hermione asked, tying her bag closed after shoving the last book inside as the teacher walked towards them. In the brief moment they had to talk before class began, he had asked for them to stay if it wasn't an inconvenience.

"Yes," Lupin nodded, clasping his hands to stop from fidgeting. "I spoke with the Headmaster this morning; he said to continue answering students that Harry and Draco are doing errands for him." The two looked at him, slightly confused. They'd been expecting a better answer than that, but that was all he had for them. "I know," he started, "it's the same thing I told you to do, but it's the best excuse there was at the time. Also, if anyone isn't satisfied with your explanation, you can direct them to the Headmaster."

"Sir," Ron started, drawing the concerned teacher's eyes from Hermione to himself. "Do you think we should talk to Professor Dumbledore, too? I mean," he paused to look at Hermione, unsure if he was blundering himself into a pointless question, but she gave no indication for him to stop, "we have so little information, but even the bit we have, we haven't been able to talk to anyone." Lupin nodded, listening to the boy, and Ron began to tick names off on his fingers. "Snape's gone, though he'd be the last choice we'd pick for help; McGonagall is always so busy, and she's second best to telling Dumbledore, but, frankly, I trust you more than I do her, and we've already told you; and Dumbledore is ignoring everyone!"

Hermione caught the faintly affronted look on Lupin's face at Ron's rise in tone and volume, and she stepped in. "We're just so worried about him, sir," she said to him, and the look softened on his face as his own worry showed through. Hermione looked to Ron, who looked more upset than worried, but knowing with him there was a fine line between them; right now he was actually on both sides of it.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Lupin said, shaking his head, "but I have my instructions. I've scheduled another time to meet with the Headmaster, but I'm afraid I won't know much until then. I think he may know just about everything that we all do, but he's been awfully busy with his work lately." He caught an almost identical look flit over both of the students' faces, and couldn't help but think they were hiding something. It wasn't hard to think of all the reasons why the two boys in particular had chosen to make such a journey. "All I can do is promise to keep you informed," he said, placing a reassuring hand on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione looked up at him then, barely feeling the light squeeze he gave with his hand. He smiled when she looked at him, "Don't worry; I'm sure he's fine." She wasn't precisely thinking of Harry at that moment, rather, wondering about the man standing to her side. "If what you told me about him and Draco is true, I'm confident he won't let anything happen to Harry," said Lupin as he withdrew his hand, replacing it with his other and twining his fingers together again. "If something were to occur by Draco's fault, he'll have me to deal with."

They all smiled when he winked at them, though Hermione didn't quite hear what he'd said. She had followed his hand back to where he'd placed it with it's partner, wondering how it must feel when he Changed. It must have been horrible to always force yourself to keep in check, for fear of hurting someone, whether friend or foe, or even a more intimate partner. Ron knew fully what the professor had been implying, and he smiled at the thought of Draco being mauled and ripped to death by the werewolf, if he ever hurt Harry. He hoped it wouldn't come to that, because, even if it was Malfoy, no one really deserved that.

Hermione made to stand up after a moment, and Ron leaned over to pick up his bag from beside his chair. "You're looking better, Professor," Hermione commented, still on the side track her mind had taken. Remus looked a bit shy at her compliment, and averted his eyes to the floor as he walked behind the students to the door. They supposed they had to be satisfied with Lupin's explanation, so they should get on with their day instead of wasting the teacher's lunch time.

She almost felt horrible for inducing an awkward silence as they walked out of the classroom and into the fourth floor corridor. "I am," Lupin replied, though still not looking at her. He hated to think they saw him like that, even though it would have happened to anyone had they tried what he had, and accomplished it, no less. "I was able to get through to Snape," he continued, trying to draw the subject away from himself, though how he thought to lighten it by mentioning Severus, he had no idea, "at least I hope so. Telepathy is a very strenuous thing, as I said, especially for the inexperienced; I wasn't sure, but I'd say there was a seventy percent chance he received the message."

"I can't believe we have to rely on Snape to look out for Harry," Ron said when they'd made it down the hall a way. He turned around and faced the other two, the sole occupants of the corridor, as everyone else had ventured to the Great Hall or their dormitories to spend the lunch break. "I mean, he hates Harry, we all know that," Ron said, ignoring the chastising look that Hermione sent his way, "but is he really the only help we've got?"

Lupin chuckled briefly, glad to be in a more safe zone in the conversation, and he felt much better talking about something else. He wasn't quite sure why it bothered him, but he hadn't been doing too well recently with some things he was trying to deal with on his own time. "I don't think Professor Snape 'hates' Harry, Ron. I'd say it's more of a strong dislike, though I can tell you there is a begrudging respect between them." Ron snorted at that, and Hermione, who had come to his side, gave him a sharp elbow to the side. He looked apologetically at the teacher before them, but he still wouldn't believe that until the day pigs could fly without the aid of magic.

Lupin excused himself then and returned to his office, while Hermione and Ron started down the hall to the stairs leading down to the main floor. She agreed with Ron, wondering if Snape really was all they had for help that would be useful in this situation. There had been times between Snape and Harry that she had witnessed them being more civil to each other in the past couple years, and she had a strange feeling about that. The urge to investigate this for herself was there, certainly, but she couldn't just drop everything at the moment. NEWTs were getting closer to beginning, and she really needed the time to study.

Ron wouldn't go out by himself, so that left him there in the castle with her. Not that it would be an unpleasant few days with Ron all to herself, and she smiled at that thought, but it was the fact that she didn't know how long it would be before Harry returned. There wasn't much she, or the two of them, could do. Dumbledore, Snape, and Lupin were already on it, and Malfoy, it seemed, was doing a great part in keeping him alive just to get him to their ridiculous destination.

She hoped Malfoy was looking out for Harry, but she did have a feeling that she would have to trust the blond. If he came back with Harry, from the clutches of the Dark Lord, then what else could she do? That would be a turning point, and she had no idea how it would go over with anyone else. She wasn't blind, or so Draco may have wanted to think when he'd stare across the Hall at Harry, as if he desperately wanted to speak to him, or at least throw him over the table and have his way with him.

They'd reached the doors to the Great Hall, and she hadn't realized she'd ignored Ron the whole way, but when she looked across to him, he looked deep in his own thoughts, as well. Hermione sighed before she looked at her friend, who soon would be more than that if things went well. Ron grinned back at her and they went into the Hall, once again preparing to answer a few questions.

@>*~

The walk back from the Great Hall to Gryffindor Tower was just as quiet as the one going to the Hall to begin with. They'd talked through the meal, but it seemed they were still caught up in their own thoughts until about half way through their supper. Hermione had smiled on, though, vaguely paying attention to Ron and Seamus playing with their potatoes. She noticed, the Irish boy had sculpted his into a rather rude figure, looking suspiciously like something she was sure her mother would tell her not to look at. She blushed and looked away when she had thought to herself, _That sure looks good._ Telling herself that she meant the actual potatoes, the way the gravy had been drizzled over them just so... Really. She wasn't some sex crazed person like certain other members of Gryffindor House.

There were laughs and jokes, and an over all lighter mood in the entire Hall, and barely any questions about Harry, though there had been a bit of a ruckus at the Slytherin table, with several Quidditch players identified by McGonagall, telling them to sit down and behave. Ron had snickered, but Neville looked at her worriedly. When she had finished her meal, Hermione stood from her seat and offered a hand to Ron. "You done?" he asked, but took her hand and stood himself. It was rare for him to be finished eating before her, but she hadn't been solely focused on the food.

Neither of them dropped the other's hand when they began walking down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, and walked down the halls, up the stairs, and down some more halls before they reached the portrait. Ron had noticed the stupid grin Seamus had given him when he and Hermione left, but he'd not followed what the other boy had found amusing. He shook his head and waved, being pulled along by his best friend. Hermione had seen it, too, and that's why she was trying to get them out of there, though she probably should have simply let go of Ron's hand if she didn't want people to gawk.

Hermione gave the new password to the Fat Lady, and she nodded, swinging the door open to admit them inside the common room. There were a few older students in the room, some they knew well and some they didn't. Ginny was near the fire with a book, and Ron could have sworn he heard her mutter, 'about bloody time,' when she grinned and watched them cross the room to their usual table. A few more sixth years were playing chess on the floor, and their eyes followed the two of them, as well. Hermione's first thought was that the boys were looking up her skirt, but they were smiling and nodding at Ron, who only looked confused before being plopped down on his side of the table.

Ron frowned at her, then followed her lead and began to unload school books from his bag. First Seamus, then the sixth years and various people they passed in the halls. Did he have something stuck to his face? He felt a bit tingly during the meal, but he'd looked at Hermione sitting beside him (very close to him, in fact) and she only smiled. He felt a tight spot in his chest, and reached for his glass of water, hoping he wasn't going to choke on something going down the wrong pipe. He was glad no one had brought up their missing friend, and felt a bit more free to have fun with the other boys.

Arranging her books on the table in front of her, along with her assignments from class, she felt glad to have something to temporarily take her mind off Harry's absence. It was a bit odd to have Ron chattering away; she'd look up for Harry, but only saw the other boys. They were familiar, and she was happy Ron was feeling a bit better about it, but they weren't the same. She hoped she'd never have to get used to not having Harry around. Oh, she didn't think Ron was finding new friends to replace Harry or anything, it just was different. Now, she just tried not to hog all the table space, leaving Ron some room to work on his own assignments.

Ron took out his Transfiguration text and opened it, taking the papers he'd stuck in as a bookmark and laying them in front of him on the table. He stretched his arms over his head, leaning back in the chair, feeling a bit tired. With all the things going on recently, he knew he still couldn't take time to sit back and do nothing, especially if that meant slacking off on his homework. He didn't want to have to think at the moment, so he tried to think of something that wouldn't be too much work, and that got him into the swing of it. After a moment of debate, he decided to write a letter to his parents while he still had the inclination to do anything.

He hadn't owled them for a while, and looking over at the side of Ginny's face he could see from behind the wing of the chair, he had no idea when she had either. By the time he'd gotten near the end of the paper he was writing on, he'd written to them about how his classes were going, telling him he was keeping an eye on his sister, and how his friends were. He'd carefully omitted that Harry had mysteriously run off, though Ron said he was fine, also leaving off that he only hoped so, didn't know so. Then, he'd topped it off with writing about the next match, when it was next week.

He set his quill down on the table and sat back again, looking at the clock on the far wall. Hermione hadn't looked up from her work, and she'd almost written twice as much as he had, which, for him, was a lot for only ten minutes. Now, if only he could do his homework that fast. "Who do you reckon will win the match between Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?" He wondered aloud, though directing his question at the girl across the table from him.

He knew Hermione didn't quite care about Quidditch, but he still felt like asking, if only just to see her eyes go shifty before she thought of an answer that wasn't, 'For christsake, Ron, I don't care!' He smiled when she looked up from her Arithmancy paper; how she could do homework that involved numbers that fast was beyond him. Very diplomatically, though, Hermione put down her quill and folded her hands over top of her work. "I'm not sure. They're both equal teams, what with Hufflepuff's new standing due to their win over Slytherin, but I hear Ravenclaw's been practicing night and day. I'm guessing they feel threatened, and really want to play against Gryffindor."

Ron stared back at her, the smile fading as she actually gave him more than a one-sentence response on Quidditch. She smiled back at him, and knew she'd stumped him. They both knew she didn't really like talking about sports, but she knew Ron loved the game, so she'd tried to make an educated guess. It was hard not to notice the tired Ravenclaw players in the halls, lumbering about in a sleep deprived stupor. Well, that, and she at least understood what Ron was saying on the subject, which helped a great deal. Viktor had a way of making her want to rub her temples every time he opened his mouth, and having him talk about Quidditch incessantly didn't help things at all.

"Speaking of playing Gryffindor," Ron picked up again, "I hope Harry makes it back before we have to play. Can't really have a proper game without our Seeker, can we?" He picked up his quill after he'd said that, needing something to twiddle with. He hadn't really wanted to bring up Harry, since they'd been having a moderately stress free day without exerting so much energy towards worrying about him. He was nervous now, because of the game, and because what if Harry never made it back? They'd lose for sure. They had a reserve Seeker, but the poor bloke hardly had a chance to play, since they wouldn't pull Harry out of a game unless he was bleeding out of every orifice he had, and even then, they'd still probably find a way to keep him in the game.

At the sad look that passed over Hermione's face, Ron changed the subject. "Anyway, how's your knitting going? Free any more enslaved house-elf labor recently?" Hermione burst out with giggles at that, as she both knew the only elf who really appreciated her knitting was Dobby, and he was already free. She swore, though, if he put one more layer of socks on, he'd leave footprints as big as a troll's. Hermione had never given up trying to free the other elves, but the knitting had become more of a hobby than a work effort, and she came to enjoy the relaxing way it made her feel, yet knowing she was still being productive.

"Nope, but the knitting's coming along nicely, I think." She really was getting pretty good at making little hats and scarves. Ron picked up a finished hat from her knitting basket sitting on the end of the table, smiling at him sticking his fingers through the ear holes and wiggling them at her. Maybe, she thought, if she ever had children some day, she'd be able to knit them something. Merlin, she felt like she was going to become the next Mrs. Weasley, and that made her smile even more, despite not even having clarified what precisely she would be becoming, title or personality. "How are you coming along on the homework?"

"Eh," Ron made a face, and they both laughed. He felt like he'd gotten somewhere on it, but he'd forgotten he'd written the letter instead of working on his assignment. They spent the next hour or so talking about nonsensical things, just enjoying being in one another's company. Homework was forgotten, and Hermione noticed, even if she knew Ron was purposely not saying anything related to it so she didn't snap back to attention and want to do more work.

Hermione loved both her best friends and would do anything for them, but she had to admit she was becoming enamored with Ron. There had been a noticeable development between them, since everyone had obviously noticed. She had to admit they had been holding hands or touching a bit more than usual lately, especially in the halls between classes. They wanted to take their time, though; at least Hermione did. She had an inkling that Ron hadn't gone past kissing a girl or two, and it still felt a bit awkward going any farther than what they had while Harry was still gone.

They got around to the subject of tomorrow, and Hermione admitted that she really did have to finish the paper she had been working on. Reluctantly, but good naturedly, Ron agreed to stop talking and work on his own homework as well. By the time Hermione was done, Ron had almost fallen asleep in his text book, as it had gotten late in the night. The common room was almost empty, except for Ron and Hermione, and a few first years huddled together with what Hermione suspected was a game. Stretching her arms up above her head, Hermione accidentally pushed her chair backward, scraping it over the floor slightly, though enough to bring Ron out of his blank stare at the book he hadn't been reading for the past five minutes.

Ron looked across the table to see a thin expanse of skin that Hermione's shirt had revealed as she stretched. He didn't realize he was staring until the grey curtain of Hermione's shirt dropped back down to cover her stomach. She smiled in bemusement at Ron's faint blush, but was glad he didn't avert his eyes when she looked into them, smiling. Standing from her seat, she walked around the table to his side. Hermione lifted a hand and brushed her fingers through Ron's hair as she leant down to give him a light kiss on the cheek. Straightening herself up, she smiled down at him before turning, and only taking one step before she felt his hand close around her wrist, gently pulling her back.

She turned, and almost tripped over Ron's foot as he'd pulled his chair back from the table, leaving enough room for her to not quite so gracefully fall into his lap. Ron looked a bit sheepish, but she raised an eyebrow, still smiling at him, and his tentative but brave arms closed around her waist. He rested his cheek against her shoulder, stealing a sniff of her faint perfume before tilting his head up and kissing the side of her mouth gently. She turned her head, smiling in the minute distance between their lips, as Ron hadn't moved away, and Hermione pressed her lips against his.

They hadn't gone past a few chaste kisses, like in the morning on the cheek still, and there hadn't been a time for them to be alone except for after the Prefects' meeting the other day. Opening her mouth under his, she let him slide his tongue slowly into her mouth, giving little flicks with her own to the tentative intruder. He grew bolder and deepened the kiss, and Hermione lifted a hand to his head, cupping it in her palm as she kissed him back with the same amount of passion he was giving. This was a different kind of kiss, mostly because of her new seat in the boy's lap, but she wasn't a total prude as to slink away from Ron when she fancied him more than a little bit, and knew for a fact he felt the same way, especially if their heated kisses meant anything.

It started out sweet and slow, not going past a few licks and nips of each other's mouth before they turned it into something a little more aggressive. Hermione felt her body be pulled closer to Ron's, and she tried not to smile and break the kiss when she felt his erection pushing against her through their clothes. She tightened her cheeks, gently rubbing against the swelling member, and pulled back when his lips froze. He'd barely realized he was so turned on, but now he had to wonder what she meant by that. Ron wasn't sure how far she wanted to go, but she sure wasn't pushing him away, or telling him to slow down.

"I have to get some sleep," Hermione said before she closed the small gap and kissed his stunned lips, which he closed after her lips left. She stood from his lap and he followed her face with his eyes, though they trailed up her body before they reached their destination. He stared up at her, lips still wet with both of their saliva, and he managed to smile.

Hermione winked at him and smiled back before she grabbed her bag, having already packed her books up in it before Ron even pulled himself out of his textbook induced daze. Turning, she headed towards the huddle of first years that had been watching them curiously.

Ron started to grin as she herded the boys to the dorms, then watched her walk up thestairs herself to the girls' rooms, with only a small look over her shoulder at him. He felt a bit uncomfortable now, not because of the situation, but because he'd never had a hard on sitting in the middle of the bloody common room before. Just because there wasn't anyone else there, didn't make it seem less weird.

He tried shifting in his seat to lesson the pressure on his erection, but to no avail. He sighed, defeat heaved out on that breath as he got up from the chair and made his way to the boys' dorms, leaving his books right where they were. He had a feeling he'd need to take care of a certain problem before he could go to sleep himself that night.

@>*~

When he'd left his room, he had absolutely no clue where he'd go. There were so many things spiraling through his mind that Severus simply needed to walk, meander, for as long as it took to clear his mind. He had settled on the fact that the boys were on their way, but he still had no idea how quickly they would arrive. It was obvious to him that Draco would be leading the way, but how? On memories almost ten years old? Snape knew there was a good head on that child, but even the sharpest mind's memories faded. It would give him at least a week, give or take, before they would find themselves in a heap of trouble.

When he'd come to that conclusion, Severus realized he'd made his way all the way back to the main entrance of the castle. He frowned, looking intently at his surroundings, and then turned to go back to his room. Walking up to the passage way he assumed he'd come through, he was stopped, watching as the wall slid silently, blocking the hall. A blank look came to his face, wondering if he was being trapped when he looked over to another passage, and it closed itself off as well. Frowning, Snape closed his eyes for a moment, wondering which direction he'd actually come from, but, when he opened his eyes again, the corridor directly in front of him was opened again.

Quickly, he dashed through it, and began walking down the hall, again almost lost in thought. He hadn't noticed any abruptly changing walls or door ways on his way, but perhaps he'd simply waved them off and chosen another alley? For anyone that had been inside the castle before knew it was an veritable maze of sharp turns and collapsible passages, which he'd just witnessed. If one were trying to get somewhere in particular, they'd never in a thousand years find their way. Letting his mind ease, Snape recalled the last time he was here, remembering the doors that appeared on walls, leaving him in the room he was seeking, though he knew he had been no where near it.

He'd found his room in mere minutes, and had gone to bed. He didn't receive much sleep that night, and any he managed to hold onto was restless and disturbed. Severus woke at daybreak, or what would have been dawn in Scotland, but he didn't care. It was a reason to stop attempting to sleep, and he began to wander around his room. The Dark Lord was due to arrive the first day that Snape himself had Apparated, but he never showed. It was clear that the ranks were starting to become frustrated about that, unsure of what they were to do. Most had taken to wandering the castle, disrupting classes, or holing up in random rooms to drink and chat.

The thing was, that Voldemort must have been there to begin with, in the room in which they'd all congregated, when he called them all by the Dark Mark; but then he had left. Why? Snape couldn't think of any reason for that, to gather them and leave them leaderless, at least for the time being. It was unlike other times he'd been summoned, where the Dark Lord would be already waiting for his minions to appear. Or else, he always made a timely entrance, drawing their whispering attention before he commenced a speech about whatever he was planning this time.

Snape was about to pour himself another cup of Firewhisky when his Dark Mark burned, stopping him dead. He felt sick like he was the only one being summoned, but he knew he couldn't disobey. Setting the bottle down with a thud, he turned abruptly and started out of his room. Voldemort had returned to the castle, and was calling the Death Eaters to him. By the time Snape had made it down three corridors, he found he wasn't the only one called, thankfully. They were called to the same room that they had been gathered in the first night they arrived. No one spoke as they walked, and Snape was fighting to clear his mind of any unhelpful thoughts.

It was quiet, save for his own footsteps and the beat of his heart. He was sure the others' shoes made sounds as well, but he couldn't hear it. The only thing he heard was the slightly disconcerting sound of the silent rustle of robes as they walked towards the room. There were arched doors in the stone all around the room, coming from corridors in the maze that was the Castle of Durmstrang. Unlike Hogwarts, the castle shifted its walls, sometimes displaced halves of entire floors, not only staircases and the scant hidden rooms. It truly was a maze, and anyone not knowing where they were going could, indeed, find themselves in a room with no way out.

Death Eaters poured out of the passages, and moved to stand before the Dark Lord. Voldemort sat in a large chair, hands on armrests that ended with the heads of some rather vicious looking animals, poised in a snarl. The chair was covered with fur and leather, but that was simply a standard feature in this castle, though Snape was sure it had been spruced up before Voldemort had deemed it worthy of his arse. The Dark Lord sat, unmoving, unblinking as his red eyes scanned through the ranks coming to stand before him. The two of his most prized servants were standing directly behind his chair, and Snape didn't bother hiding the slight shock at seeing who stood there, since that was most everyone else's expression as well. Peter Pettigrew and Lucius Malfoy.

@>*~

The trip through Muggle London was shorter than they thought it would be, and they decided it would be a good idea to stop for a bite to eat. It was easier to stop there for a while than to stick around Diagon Alley because they could tuck their cloaks away, find a secluded corner in a small shop and no one would notice. It was either that, or Knockturn Alley. No one would blink an eye at them with their hoods up if they kept up the air of purpose, which was probably why they hadn't chosen that route. By the time they got out of London, safely sitting in the train, it was close to nine-thirty.

The ride was quiet between the two of them, with only few words, though there were quite a lot of glances at each other. Absorbed in their own thoughts, they mutually and silently decided to stay that way until they reached their destination. As they ate, Draco had told Harry where their first stop was; Harry didn't have much of a plan B to offer, so he had agreed. They were at the very edge of England now, and were wondering how to cross the English Channel to get to France. The Channel Tunnel was an option, but they still had a very long journey ahead of them, and not much time to go about doing it.

With not being sure how long Snape would be in Durmstrang, Draco didn't want to take the chance that they'd get there and find out he'd already left. What a waste of a trip that would be, huh? One thing he'd noticed about Harry; he dawdled. Now, whether he knew it or not, he did, and it was another thing that drove Draco batty. He didn't have the luxury of dawdling, not when his father was around. Draco had learned to always be on time for things, be punctual. Now, they'd walked out into another bit of trees, and found a gap in them, like a small clearing.

It was obvious to Draco that they were going to Apparate, and when he turned around to look at Harry, who had been following him through the trees, he found that Harry didn't seem to know what was going to take place here. Draco didn't have his license, but he knew how, courtesy of his father. Harry looked back at him, looking a bit confused now, and perhaps a bit restless. "Now what?"

Draco stared at him for a moment, before he threw up his arms. His mouth worked for a moment, not really wanting to yell at the other boy, as it might draw someone into the forest to investigate, and he just didn't feel like yelling. "Well, what did you think we were doing, hiking off into the trees for? A shag?" Draco let his arms drop, and thought for a second that Harry might blush at the mention of sex. Even if he had, it was too dark to see it with the few feet between them. Harry sighed, and Draco continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Harry, it's not that hard; I've done it lots of times."

"That's easy for you to say. If you want to go that way, go ahead, and I'll meet you there," Harry said petulantly, even as he started to fidget. Draco sighed, watching the nervous boy across from him. He swore, if Harry pouted, he _would_ meet him there. Harry just stood there, staring back at the blond, and Draco wondered if Harry knew how he was acting right now. He'd chalk it up to the hormones for now, but as he didn't really know Harry that much, this could be a regular occurrence. If that was the case, he wasn't sure how much of it he could take. Being around the other boy was going to be such a headache until this baby was born, if he was even pregnant. He still wasn't quite sure whether Harry was lying through his teeth or not.

"Okay, how's this: I'll teach you." Harry looked back at him, starting to shake his head nervously. Draco continued, not wanting to hear the, 'Gee, I don't know, Draco. It sounds dangerous,' speech. How Harry had ever managed to do the many so called heroic things he'd done by being a big baby, Draco couldn't fathom; that lead him to believe the hormones theory, for the time being. "You've studied your books for the test, right?" Harry nodded, but still looked unsure. He really hadn't gotten too far in the text, but even then, it was hard to learn something like that from a guide. "So, look, all you have to do is picture where, exactly, you want to reappear, and concentrate hard on that image. Imagine you're there, and, presto, you'll be there."

"Draco, I've never been out of England!" he shouted. "I have no idea where to go. Yes, I could sit here and think all I want about France, but where would I turn up? Paris? Versailles?" Harry stalked moodily over to a fallen tree trunk and sat down on it. He was tired and really didn't feel up to trying something he'd never done before, especially when his mind insisted on wandering. What was he supposed to do, picture some guy in a beret?

Shutting his eyes, Draco simply waited a few moments before he decided what he was going to do; what they were going to do. He turned to face Harry, who'd stomped by him through the grass, and now he saw was slumped down on a log. Draco sighed loud enough to draw the other boy's attention, and then he smiled at Harry before simply disappearing. Harry blinked in the dark, not quite sure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. When he looked to the sides, around himself, and still didn't see Draco...

Harry stood up abruptly, and almost tripped himself in the tall grass as he turned around, looking for the blond. He stared at the last spot he'd seen Draco in, and his eyes went wide in horror. "How," Harry whispered to himself, before changing his words, "How could he leave me?" He fell quiet now, every little sound jumping out at him, and he tried to repress the panic that was quickly trying to overtake him. Before he had a chance to call out for the other boy, he heard a faint breath being drawn from somewhere close behind him. He whirled around, looking, feeling his heart beginning to beat faster before he saw the other boy step out from around a tree, smiling.

When Harry saw who it was that began laughing, he started to run to the other boy. First, he wrapped his arms around Draco's neck, hugging him tightly. Draco certainly wasn't expecting this, and he'd simply stood there, arms at his sides. Harry pulled back, and looked a bit angry, Draco had time to muse, before the dark-haired boy pulled his arm back even farther, and launched it straight into Draco's stomach. Ah, that was more like what he had been expecting, as the air was forced out of his lungs at the blow. Harry still had his arm over Draco's shoulders as the blond doubled over, and he wheezed slightly as he tried to regain his breath. "Why the bloody hell did you do that for?" he asked, voice still a bit hoarse.

"You left!"

"I didn't go that far, Harry," Draco pointed out, literally, as he jerked a thumb behind himself to the tree he'd been behind. Harry turned his head back to glare at the tree, the poor thing not even three meters away from where they stood now. This gave Draco time to compose himself, and he stood straight, looking at Harry. "Look, since you don't know anything about France, why not just picture me?"

"How?" Harry asked, sliding his arm from Draco's shoulders as the other boy stood up. "I don't have any pictures of you, though."

Choosing to ignore that comment, not even shaking his head in resigned frustration, Draco continued. "It does the same thing as thinking of the place you want to go. I'll go first, then you follow." He noted Harry's eyes flick nervously to the side when he said he'd leave first, but it honestly was the only way to go about teaching Harry to do this. "I'm telling you, it's not that hard. Just... concentrate," he said, closing his eyes, and he calmly stood there for a moment.

Draco pictured the cobbled street he'd remembered. His father had taken him on a specific route on their trips to the wizarding school of Durmstrang; through all-wizarding communities, though there was the occasional stop in Muggle cities, mostly for material things. He remembered going down a street, walking past a little shop on the corner once or twice, smelling the smell of baking bread as he passed. He put the memories together as an image in the front of his mind, and relaxing himself and focusing on the image, he opened his eyes once more.

He found himself standing in the middle of a street, and had to dodge out of the way before a carriage got too close to where he was standing dumbly. The street was full of rushing people, making their way to and fro between the many different shops. It was one of the few wizarding communities in France, and the first stop on their journey, and he was glad he wasn't trying to teach Harry how to Apparate somewhere that wasn't safe, like somewhere that people wouldn't take sanely to someone suddenly appearing out of thin air.

Harry had seen Draco's eyes moving behind their lids, etching some image onto them, and with a soft pop sound, Draco was gone. Forcing himself to be calm, as well, Harry didn't panic at the disappearance. He gave a heavy sigh, trying to settle his nerves before his eyes flickered closed. He started to picture Draco: blond hair, grey eyes, black cloak... No, that wasn't working. All that was doing was making a choppy picture of all of those things stuck together, like they were cut out of several different magazine pictures.

He squeezed his eyes gently, and tried to call up another image of the Slytherin. The first thing that came to mind was from only a few minutes ago, when Draco had sidled around the side of the tree, smiling at him. Not a whole smile, mind you; more his usual arrogant smirk. His body leaned gracefully against the tree; lean, though Harry knew there were toned muscles underneath. The silver blond hair picked up glints of moonlight, highlighting a few strands white, and Harry felt the smell of the other boy, sharp, and he thought of a many petaled flower with thorns, not matching a smell, but the flower it came from, whose name escaped him.

With his eyes still closed, Harry began to smile, and felt his body shift. He reached up to hold the bag he was carrying back onto his shoulder, but it was already there. "Hmm," he heard from the near vicinity, and he slowly opened his eyes to find himself standing in an alley way, with Draco leaning up against the wall he was facing, arms crossed. Harry smiled fully, and Draco gave him a sweeping look with his eyes before rolling them to the side as he turned his body.

Harry started with saying, "I did it." He hadn't even realized it, but he supposed that was what that shift was, maybe a different breeze, but it was definitely easier than he thought.

"Yes, it was marvelous, Potter," Draco drawled, though he didn't say it with much malice in his voice. He sounded amused to Harry, and he only had a moment to spare before his face paled and he turned around as quickly as he could, kneeling down. Draco was about to continue before he saw Harry go stark white, before flushing again, and turning. Draco instinctively stepped forward, crouching a bit behind the other boy, laying a hand on the small of Harry's back. He held back an 'ugh' and opted for, "Harry?"

Harry's body gave another jerk as more bile surged upwards, and out of his mouth. Draco only saw a bit of sick, or rather, heard it come up, and kept out of viewing range after that. He rubbed lightly across Harry's back, waiting for him to finish. He knew Harry hadn't eaten much that day, so there wouldn't be much to come up. Harry gave a couple last dry heaves, and then stilled for a moment before starting to straighten himself up. Draco stood quickly, a concerned expression on his face, which Harry noticed as he faced the blond. "Yeah," Harry said, swallowing. "I'm alright. The Apparating jostled my stomach; didn't take too kindly to that."

Draco nodded, and began to walk out into the busy street. Harry followed after him, though he caught up to Draco's side after a moment; he didn't want to be alone, and he hadn't a clue what he'd have done if he couldn't manage to Apparate, and Draco didn't come back. He'd never have made it this far without the other boy's help, and Harry knew it. Harry looked at all the shops they passed, though his eyes lingered on a flower shop, with all sorts of exotic magical plants waving at him through the glass panes.

They made good time as they wound their way down the street, though still having no clue how long it would take to reach Snape before he headed back to Hogwarts. "There are matches coming up," Draco said as they passed a broom shop. "What exactly is the Gryffindor team going to do for a Seeker, if we're still gone? I know we have a reserve," he said a little more quietly, knowing full well that the rest of the Slytherin team wouldn't hesitate to bring in the reserve, "but I have no idea about your team."

Harry thought about it for a moment before answering. "I'm not sure," he said, looking at Draco as they walked. "I never thought about it, really. Though we've been letting Dennis practice with the Snitch, he's not really ready for it, but I suppose he'd be considered our reserve Seeker. He probably wouldn't even have been given a chance to play if I was still at school, but I s'pose with the new...situation, I won't be playing anyway. I don't know if I want anyone else to know."

The blond watched as Harry gestured vaguely to his stomach, and was reminded of Harry being sick only a few minutes ago. There certainly were signs saying that it was true, that Harry was really pregnant. He wondered if anyone else knew, maybe Granger, since she did tend to stick her nose into everything. "Why not?" he asked.

"Just strange, you know?" Harry said, and paused for a moment. Draco didn't say anything, but Harry saw him nod faintly to his side. "I was raised thinking males couldn't carry children, so it never crossed my mind. Sometimes I don't even remember, and that kind of... scares me. Like if I hurt it, or something."

It. Draco hadn't even looked at Harry's stomach and contemplated a child at the same time. When they'd last touched each other, it hadn't even crossed his mind that he might be doing something that would damage the child. He didn't even know the gender, but maybe Harry didn't either. He really didn't want to go into that right now, though. It was too soon for him to think about it, maybe get some more Apparating practice done around this town. For now, Draco thought he'd change the subject to something less awkward, or at least not something so emotionally potent. "I heard you were raised by Muggles."

"Yeah," responded Harry. He knew it was a subject change, and right now, he'd be glad to yak about his boring and cruel relatives compared to the problems of his life. He didn't particularly think of any of this as a problem, but why did it always have to happen to him? Was it even possible for him to go an entire year, or six months, without something tragic happening in his life? He'd barely made it the first year of his life without being scarred for life.

"How could you stand it? Being around Muggles, I mean. Did you not have other relatives who could take care of you?" Draco asked. He had never been in a Muggle house before, but he knew they weren't as large as the Manor he grew up in. Despite what people may think, he wasn't waited on hand and foot, forcing house-elves to do his bidding. Of course, he was used to a certain amount of luxury in _that_ department, but it wasn't as if he was an invalid when it came to doing something menial for himself.

Harry sighed quietly, almost unheard by Draco in the busy, noisy street. They were nearing a less cluttered area, though, coming up into the more proper and fancy businesses. "None that I know of," Harry said. "Dumbledore's the one who thought it would be best for me to stay with the Dursleys. I'm not sure if he knew or not how they'd treat me."

"Bad?" Draco thought he might have picked another wonderful subject to talk about, but now he couldn't make himself shut up. He had no idea what had spurred this sudden interest in Potter's life, but he had to admit it wasn't that bad. The only others whose lives he knew about were people he'd spent time with even before school started. Crabbe and Goyle were exactly the same, pampered, stuffed full of sweets. Blaise had been quiet then, too, but Draco knew he wasn't a selfish brat, or at least not all the time.

"You could say that," Harry said, and if they had to pick a word to describe how he voiced those words, it might have been 'forlornly'. There was no way Harry could deny he wished he had grown up with his parents, and never had the awful life he had before his Hogwarts letter came by owl post. "They hated that I could do magic, locked me in the cupboard under the stairs for five years; that kind of thing. When I came back from school after my first year, I guess they were even more scared of me; decided I would be allowed to sleep in my cousin's second bedroom, but they still made sure they could lock me in when they felt they needed to."

"That's horrible," Draco said, frowning. He had no idea Harry had a less than stellar life with his family, or relatives. Since he was raised in a wizarding family himself, he grew up knowing the name Harry Potter, and the 'fame' that surrounded it; most people probably didn't even know that about Harry at Hogwarts, let alone the entire wizarding world. "No wonder You-Know-Who wants to rid the world of Muggles."

Harry managed to scoff at that. "Didn't your father ever tell you that Voldemort isn't pure blood?"

"What do you mean?" Draco asked, frowning deeper as they continued down the street. They came to the end, to an intersection, and they stopped. Draco had a thoughtful expression settled over his features, and Harry couldn't tell whether or not it was to think about where to go now, for directions to where they were going to stay, or about what he'd just said.

"His father was a Muggle, from what I understand. It seems he's taking his revenge on all Muggles due to his father disowning him when he was little, just because of what he was." Draco didn't say anything, but he gestured to turn left, and they started down another street, and Harry followed, still at the other boy's side.

"From what I've seen, all Muggles are vile," Draco said after a minute. "They persecute wizards for nothing more than having magic, and try to rid themselves of us, calling us the 'filth'. Why do you think we take so many precautions against letting Muggles find out about our world?" He'd never really been given a chance to speak about how he really felt about non-magic folk, but this was alright. It definitely was true he'd never actually known a Muggle, and he knew there were a couple of Muggle-borns in Slytherin, but none in his year, so he didn't usually speak to them.

"They're not all bad," Harry said, looking up at a tall, beige building they were approaching. "Take the Muggle-born students at school, for example; especially Hermione. Her parents are both dentists and they were proud of her being different from themselves. They even go with her when she needs to pick up books and things from Diagon Alley. My relatives would only drop me off at the train station, and that was only after I scared them into doing it; that, and they were glad to be rid of me."

Draco supposed he could be wrong; after all, they were all just human beings. He wasn't going to give it too much thought, at least not at the moment. They stopped in front of the tall building, and Draco opened the door, letting Harry go inside. Harry wasn't sure what he was stepping into, didn't even know if it was a bar with rooms for rent, or a classy hotel. Either way, he was a bit nervous, especially when it turned out to be the latter. Draco followed him inside, and passed him, making his way to the desk.

Harry caught up again, and listened to what Draco was saying. "This'll be a good place to stay until tomorrow night. My father prefers the darker, more shadier hotels, at least the ones that still held class in his eyes, but my mother brought me here. She didn't think they were proper places for a child to stay, so we came here." Harry looked around while Draco talked to the witch at the desk. It was a fairly nice hotel, but he could tell that it wouldn't have stuffy employees, bowing and simpering to the rich.

That actually surprised him a little bit, considering his few experiences with Narcissa Malfoy; he'd always thought Draco's mother was the kind to have everything done for her, while she sat there and simply watched. He had to admit he didn't know the woman, and had never seen her in a private setting, or without her husband. Harry was beginning to think Draco was starting to warm up to him, but he wasn't sure why. Maybe he'd been wrong about the kind of person the blond was, and he'd known him for seven years. How should he be able to judge the boy's mother when he'd only seen her a scant few times in public and only spoken to her once.

The way Draco looked at him sometimes made Harry think he was simply humoring him, but Harry frowned at the thought. He hoped they could at least come to some kind of understanding, especially since he was carrying Draco's child within himself. He heard Draco thank the witch, and take something from her hand. Draco turned and stepped back towards Harry, jingling the key to the room they were staying in.

While they were still in Diagon Alley, it had been late and they were both exhausted, which allowed them not to piss around with two rooms there, but what about here? They certainly had time to make arrangements, but Harry shrugged those thoughts off as he walked up the stairs after the blond. He was tired, though. They'd walked quite a long way, but it was good. They weren't in a rush, yet, and it had given Harry time to settle himself, and his stomach.

@>*~

In the darkened street in Hogsmeade, outside the Hog's Head, no one paid any mind to two heavily cloaked men Apparating with a crack into the middle of the road. No one batted an eye when they walked into the establishment, and paid for a room, just for the night. They had their hoods up on their black cloaks, and it didn't draw any attention from the bar patrons as they wound their way through the room, heading for the stairs.

@>*~

Their lessons on Friday had dragged along, due to not many people paying attention. Most people were chatting about the trip over the weekend, where everyone who had permission from third year and up could leave school grounds for the all-wizarding town of Hogsmeade. All through breakfast, the Gryffindors were talking about what they were going to do, and who was going to hang out with whom. Ron had stayed quiet, but he seemed to be listening to Dean, Seamus, and Neville. Hermione had listened as well, finally getting the hint after several tries to talk to her best friend.

They had both shared a look when Seamus started asking Neville what he wanted to do after breakfast. "Uhm, I think I might stay here today," said Neville. "I want to finish my Transfiguration homework before I forget about it. Maybe Sunday?"

"Oh, come on, Nev," Dean said, nudging the other boy's shoulder with his own. They were sitting across from Ron and Hermione, Seamus on the other side of Neville. Neville shook his head and grinned, sticking to his explanation. Hermione had an inkling that Neville had other things to do than homework. While almost eighty-five percent of the seventh years were out at Hogsmeade for the next two days, it left an awful lot of empty places around the castle. They would be perfect for a couple to run off to, shut the door, and have some alone time.

She barely had wondered whether there were other rooms Harry and Malfoy had been in together when the boy across the table from her mentioned her missing friend's name. "Oi, is Harry going to be back this weekend?" Seamus asked. "He'll miss a great pre-game celebration for Hufflepuff if he's not." Ron still didn't say anything, though he was obviously trying to think of what he should say if she didn't. He looked to her, and she spoke up.

"I think Dumbledore added another week onto his training, but he may be back sooner than that, depending on how it goes," she said. Merlin, she hoped they didn't keep asking. Even if they only asked every other day, it was still hard to feel confident that Harry would return when she thought he would, when Lupin had said they should be back. Dean and Seamus shrugged and went back to their food, thankfully not harassing Neville about going with them today.

The whole school knew that Harry was gone, and it did go off well to tell them he was in training. They had said he was on an errand to begin with, but that soon turned into a training session. There was nothing Dumbledore would take Harry out of school for more than two days to complete, therefore, it had to be something concerning Harry directly. All of the Slytherins knew that Draco was missing, and they knew that thanks to Blaise Zabini, and Neville, of course. Ron had been noticing the other boy a lot more lately.

He hadn't realized how out of the way the quiet Slytherin was, but he didn't start fights, had good grades, Hermione told him. Ron just didn't know how to take the other boy. It was strange for him to think of anyone from Slytherin as a good person, but he supposed it happened once in a while. Hermione had told him that just because someone possessed qualities that the Sorting Hat was trained by Salazar Slytherin to observe in a person's mind, didn't mean they were bad. Harry had those qualities, and he was alright; Ron couldn't dispute that, so it got him to thinking.

That didn't mean he was happy about the whole Malfoy situation. Aside from it making him gag when he created some disturbing mental image of the blond with his best friend, it just didn't make sense. Why would Harry be with someone like that? It boggled his mind, and that was why he'd just opted not to think about it at all anymore. He wanted Harry to come back, and to return safely, with minor injuries, if any. Hermione had told him that they were still traveling. Yesterday after supper she'd found Professor Lupin and asked him to update her on what was going on.

He hadn't much to tell her. "Professor Dumbledore is confident that no harm will come to the boys, and they should return within the next week, depending how far they've gone already," Lupin had said to her, but that was about it. After that, she'd asked him about Snape, and he said he had put a stop to the telepathy, trusting that Snape had received his message. "Snape will be very helpful in this situation, Hermione, trust me."

Hermione had a hard time trusting the Potions master, despite knowing his involvement in the Order of the Phoenix. He wasn't the most social of people, but he had never once stayed for dinner at Sirius' house, even after the accident in the Department of Mysteries. She didn't want to think about that, though. It was hard on her, and Ron, and all of the children, for that matter, when Sirius had disappeared. For those that saw it, it was even worse. They couldn't believe he was still gone, but they couldn't sit and cry about it, they needed to get on with their lives. It was an ode to the man, who hated to be kept from doing something he didn't want to do.

Who wanted to cry, anyway? Exactly. There had been a nice funeral, and Fred and George had obtained some alcohol, and, aiding to the delinquency of minors, they'd shared it with them. Ginny wasn't allowed any, but Ron had managed to get positively pissed. It was a fond memory, despite not remembering much of it, and Ron smiled as he shoved the last bite of toast into his mouth. It was a nice day outside, and he looked up to the enchanted ceiling, seeing the blue sky, scattered, white, fluffy clouds drifting around. It wasn't snowing yet, but it wouldn't be long before it did.

"You ready?" Hermione asked him, and he looked down to her, swallowing the food in his mouth. He nodded and smiled again, and she smiled back. They hadn't talked about the trip to Hogsmeade, or what they were going to do today. That was mostly due to the worry about Harry, but she could tell that Ron was a bit nervous about it all. After all, it was a "date", their first. How was he supposed to act? Did he have to pay for everything? He hadn't been on many dates, and not without some other friends there, too. Harry wasn't around, and he didn't want Seamus or Dean hanging around, so what was he supposed to do?

The two of them made their way back to Gryffindor Tower to collect their cloaks and money before heading back down to the front doors to the castle. They took a carriage into the wizarding town, and thanked the driver when they climbed out. Dumbledore hired safe transportation for his students, so they didn't have to pay the man. He tipped his hat at them and started off with his horse. They headed down the main street of the town, wondering where they should stop in first. They peered into the shop windows, and Ron wanted to go into Honeydukes to stock up on a few candies, since the house-elves usually didn't have some of the ones he really liked.

Hermione bought a few Toothflossing Stringmints for her parents, since they had expressed their fondness for them the last time she'd sent them some. "I'll wait by the door," she said to Ron, leaning in to whisper the words into his ear. It was a bit noisy in the shop, since some of the third years who were eager to gather up sweets were talking quite loudly. Ron agreed with a nod, and he went up to the counter to pay for his candies.

Hermione walked to the door and stood to the side so as not to block the way, and looked out the window to the bustling street outside. It was a bit chilly today, but that was to be expected for November. There were students running from shop to shop, carriages trotting by, and town residents milling around, talking to each other, and groups of students stood and chatted about things. It looked like a pleasant scene, and she smiled at it. It would have been perfect if it started to snow right now, soft little flakes drifting down. Most people were wrapped warmly, so there wasn't any harm to be done, not especially if they're wizards, to boot. Ah, the marvels of Warming Spells.

There was one thing that caught her eye, though, and it didn't fit in with the happy picture she saw through the window. Hermione felt Ron at her side, and she turned back to see him, bag in hand, ready to go. "What are you looking at?" he asked, looking out the window, frowning as he tried to see what she had seemed to find so interesting.

"Those men," she said, pointing out to a tall lamp post where two men in dark cloaks stood, one leaning against the pole. "Their hoods are up, and don't they look like they're watching for something?" Ron watched them for a minute, and they were, indeed scanning the crowds. "What's strange, is that there are mostly students here today. Why would they be looking for a student?"

"Good thing Harry's not here," Ron said, thinking very unpleasantly of You-Know-Who sending goons after Harry. Hermione didn't say anything for a moment, not even when someone pushed by Ron to get through the door he was blocking. He knocked into Hermione, and she shuffled over, trying to give him some more room to look out the window with her.

"I don't think they're looking for Harry," she said, sounding surer than she felt about it. "If they were, why wouldn't they be following us? I mean, it's no secret that we're his best friends, right?" Ron nodded, frowning as he looked over her shoulder. That was true, and it had happened before, not to mention the two of them always getting involved in Harry's adventures.

"Who would they be looking for, then?"

"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. "Who else would have two cloaked men watching for them?"

"Malfoy," Ron whispered. She hadn't really expected an answer, but it made her laugh for a moment. It did make a bit of sense, though. There might be people looking for Draco, but she couldn't think of any reason why. Maybe not looking to capture him, or hurt him, but to protect him made a bit of sense. After all, his father was a very rich man, and with Lucius Malfoy in prison, it left the family's assets a bit vulnerable to thieves holding out for a ransom.

"They are kind of big," Ron said in defense. "Maybe they're supposed to be body guards or something."

"Well, whoever they are, I hope they don't herald trouble for anyone that I love and care about. Or anyone period, for that matter," Hermione said, and Ron took the hint at finality and followed after her as she opened the door to exit the sweet shop.

@>*~


	7. Chapter 7

As they left Honeydukes, they found that someone had spilled some Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans on the steps. Ron hopped over the entirety, and then held up his hand for Hermione to hold as she walked down them. She smiled to herself and took his hand, stepping carefully around the beans, and hoping she didn't slip and make a fool of herself. Even when she reached the ground, Ron held her hand. "Thank you," she said, and grinned at him when he lifted her hand up to give it a kiss.

"My pleasure," he replied, and they began to navigate the street back to the Three Broomsticks. They didn't see the cloaked men inside, or on their way to the tavern, and Hermione wondered again what they could have been doing. They had two ideas, one good and one bad, but she really didn't want to have to think about it. Not now, when she was supposed to be here, _they_ were supposed to be here having fun, trying to forget about the stress of the past week.

That wasn't going very well so far, and they found an empty table near the far corner of the Three Broomsticks and sat down. They had just ordered Butterbeers for themselves when a few other students from their House came into the tavern and waved at them. Dean and Seamus came over to them, sitting down, Lavender and Parvati following. They started up a conversation with Ron, asking if he got any Chocolate Frogs, and if he wanted to trade cards tomorrow.

Lavender and Parvati didn't pay much attention to Hermione besides saying 'hello.' Hermione knew she wasn't one for much girl talk, only with Ginny, whom she hadn't seen all day except at breakfast. After Ron had finished saying something, he sat back in his seat, listening to them talk, just like he had at breakfast. Hermione wondered what he was thinking about, and the two of them mostly stayed quiet while the others talked. They laughed at jokes, but didn't really participate in the conversation unless spoken to directly.

It was a long day at Hogsmeade, and they had spent a couple more hours in the tavern before they went out to shop a bit more before having a snack for lunch. They had found Neville sitting by himself when they returned to the Three Broomsticks, and they went and sat down with him. "So, how did the homework go?" Hermione asked, always one for catching up on the homework gossip, even if she was the only one who gossiped about homework in the entire school.

"Good, I finished earlier than I thought," Neville smiled, before taking a drink from his mug. "I was going to come down after lunch, but I made it out before, thanks to Blaise. He's really been helping me this year, and even over the summer."

"That's great, Nev," Ron said distractedly, flagging down Madam Rosmerta to order something for lunch. He didn't want to think about Zabini right now, either, but he supposed the subject would change back to homework in a second, especially with Hermione there, and she didn't let him down.

What Neville had said made her wonder how long he and Blaise had been seeing each other, or how it began. Maybe she'd ask him some time, but right now he seemed to just want to have fun. He did look a little skittish, like he wanted to be somewhere else, and would gladly bolt if he saw his boyfriend across the room, but he seemed to be glad for their company, and she listened to the boys give Madam Rosmerta their orders, and then she did, too.

She'd never quite thought of Neville having a boyfriend before, but she supposed that's what it was. Then she wondered if that's how the two missing boys referred to each other as. Harry Potter with a boyfriend; no, it still didn't sound right, or really the first thing anyone would think about Harry. There were many other reasons to explain why he didn't go farther with Cho, or even try for Hermione or Ginny. Everyone knew Ginny had had a crush on him, which the youngest Weasley still blushed over if that fact was stated if Harry was in hearing range.

No one had ever thought, 'Hmm, maybe he's gay.' Hermione didn't have much experience talking about things like that, but she was definitely there for Harry if he wanted to talk to her about how he was feeling. _This must be new for him, too,_ she thought, wondering how long Harry and Draco had been doing things together, or to each other. She'd never known anyone who was completely homosexual, and she wasn't attracted to girls at all, but she could support Harry with his choices.

After lunch, Neville walked down the street with them, and then they separated, wondering where Neville was off to now. They hadn't seen Blaise around, but maybe they were supposed to meet up somewhere. Now, it was more shopping and one more stop off at the Three Broomsticks to say hello to a few more people and goodbye to Madam Rosmerta, who asked how Hagrid was, since he hadn't been in lately. Hermione and Ron then headed back to Hogwarts.

@>*~

Since they'd eaten at Hogsmeade, they went straight up to their common room. After they were through the portrait door, Hermione made her way over to their usual study area and sat down in her chair. Ron joined her, and leaned back in his seat to relax. The smile she gave him was cut short by a sudden yawn, and she was surprised at how tired she actually was, especially since they hadn't done much except walk around all day. It was only mid evening, and it was as quiet as it was at three in the morning; obviously, no one else was back yet.

Ron felt himself start to yawn a few seconds after Hermione had, and he had to admit he was pretty tired as well. He closed his eyes as his yawn came out, stretching his mouth wide. Hermione was looking at him when he opened his eyes, and he said, "I'm tired. I think I'll turn in," before he stood up from his seat and walked around the table to Hermione. He leaned down until his lips were only a few inches from Hermione's before placing a chaste kiss against her lips. "'Night, Hermione."

"Good night, Ron," Hermione replied, smiling up at her friend.

Ron smiled back before straightening himself up and heading towards the stairs to the boys' dorms. Reaching the top of the stairs, he opened the door to the room he shared with Harry and the other seventh year boys. He didn't really feel up to showering before bed, as he was too tired, so he simply stripped down to his boxers and walked over to his trunk to grab his pajamas before heading on his way to the lavatory to brush his teeth. Once he finished brushing his teeth and washing his face, he turned the light out and walked back to his bed. He left the pajama shirt off, as it was warm enough in the room with the fire going, and he didn't think he would get cold.

It was dark in his room since he hadn't turned the lights on, and he slipped into bed. It took him a few seconds, but he noticed he wasn't alone in his bed. The beds weren't very big to begin with since they were made for only one occupant, although all the beds in Hogwarts had a spell on them to lengthen in size since most students grew in height when they were away for the summer and Dumbledore didn't think his students would appreciate having their legs hanging off the end of the bed just because they'd grown a few inches.

Shifting up onto an elbow, Ron pulled the blanket back to see who the intruder was. It was dark, and he really didn't want to see Seamus naked right now, hoping that it wasn't a case of mistaken bed identity. The rest of the boys from their year had gotten an older wizard to buy them alcohol, and they were probably not back yet because they were too tipsy to do anything but sit there and laugh. "Hermione!" he said when he saw his friend lying there. She moved to sit up more, and he just sat there in surprise. "What are you doing in here?"

It wasn't as if he really minded, but it was a bit different. Hermione lowered her eyes and sniffled, causing Ron to scoot closer and wrap his arms around her. "I'm sorry, Ron, but I'm still worried about Harry. I guess I just didn't want to be alone," she said. She hadn't started crying, but if she continued talking about it, she might. She rubbed at one of her eyes a bit, because she was tired, too.

Ron wasn't sure what to do right then, as he'd never really had much experience with a sniffling woman before. His own sister didn't really count, mostly because Ginny was his sister and it was his duty to make her feel better by cracking a few jokes, but he wasn't sure if Hermione would be in the mood for that right now. Plus, he was still kind of surprised to find Hermione actually lying in his bed. Ron thought of getting into Harry's bed, to be close to her and still have her feel like she wasn't alone, but he got the suspicion that would be defeating her purpose for getting into _his_ bed. He didn't want her to be upset, and he rubbed her arm comfortingly. Ron sighed quietly before leaning them backwards a bit, to lie against the pillows. "Please don't cry, Hermione. I'm sure he's fine, even if he is with Malfoy."

Hermione snuggled into Ron's hug, placing her own arms around her friend's waist. She didn't realize she had placed one of her arms close to his hip since she was hugging him sideways. Ron swallowed nervously. He'd been attracted to Hermione since their fourth year and he suddenly felt a bit strange with her in his arms. Sure, they'd kissed but this was different, and it made him feel jittery. His damn teenage hormones were beginning to take a liking to having a girl in his arms even if they were only hugging, sitting innocently in his bed, talking about their best friend, for that matter. "I'm not crying, I'm just...I hope he really is okay. This could turn out very, very badly, Ron."

"I know, Hermione, but he'll be fine. I'm sure of it," Ron replied, hugging Hermione tighter to him. _If Malfoy doesn't betray him first,_ he thought. He was brought out of his thoughts when Hermione sat up, and he suddenly became aware of them both being in a half naked state. He tried to push those thoughts out of his head, because, after all, she was upset, and he turned to look at her better. She seemed to be giving him an odd look, and he asked, "All right there, Hermione?"

Hermione smiled, leaning forward. "I am now," she said before she leaned the rest of the way toward Ron and placed her lips on his own. Ron paused a moment before relenting to the kiss, opening his mouth when he felt her tongue probing his mouth. He pulled her closer to his body until they were chest to chest, in the back of his mind he noticed that her breasts were pushed up against his chest and he decided he liked that feeling. He moaned softly into her mouth when he felt her hand trail down his chest, rubbing over a nipple as it slid. The past week seemed like it was leading up to this moment and he wasn't sure if he was happy or a bit scared that this seemed to be leading to something more than just light petting and snogging.

Ron opened his eyes when he felt Hermione pull away from him. "Hermione?" he asked, frowning slightly, wondering if he might have rushed into this whatever it was between them, even though it was Hermione who had initiated the kiss.

"Don't worry, Ron. I'll be right back," Hermione said reassuringly as she walked to the door and disappeared out of the room. Ron leaned back, berating himself for pushing himself onto her. She was probably just pretending to be nice to him and made an excuse to leave, gone to lock herself in the girls' dorms, away from big bad Ron. He sighed into his pillow as he turned onto his side. _Stop putting yourself down,_ he thought, _she likes you, just be patient and don't rush into anything._

Ron closed his eyes and waited, but he must have dozed off, because it must have been at least ten minutes later before Hermione returned, making her way over to Ron's bed again. "Ron?" she called out softly, moving a little closer to the bed when she didn't get a response from her friend. "Ron?" she tried again, but still no answer. Thinking he had probably gone to sleep, she settled herself down onto the bed and reached over to gently shake his shoulder. "Ron, wake up."

Ron had felt the dip in his bed, and he almost couldn't decide whether to pretend to be asleep, or not. If she had come back, like he was doubting, would she want to continue where they left off? His mind was made up for him when he felt her lean over him and place a kiss onto his cheek before lying down next to him. There wasn't a large amount of room, but he didn't want her falling off the bed, so he scooted over some, which in turn let her know he was awake. "I'm awake," he stated, since he couldn't keep the ruse up now, especially since he had just moved voluntarily.

Hermione kissed him once more on the cheek before settling herself down for the night. She had pulled the blanket up to cover herself, and tucked the edge under her arm. Ron stayed in the position he had been, on his side, when she had settled herself into his bed and he saw that she had changed into night clothes, and he couldn't help but notice she didn't pull the blanket up all the way over her chest. He swallowed heavily when he realized what exactly she was wearing. It was a light blue, almost sheer nightgown. He couldn't tell if it was long or short since she had slipped under the covers before he had seen, but he was definitely able to see the way it cupped her breasts. _And what nice breasts they are, too,_ he thought, before shaking his head of the thought. It wouldn't do to let her know how much he liked her night attire since he was almost flush against her backside. It was really the only way they could share the bed without one of them falling over.

He continued to stare at her breasts, almost squeaking when he noticed he could make out her nipple through the sheer material. Before he could say or do anything, he heard Hermione say, "Ron? Lie down, it's cold." He hastily did as she wished, feeling cheeky enough to want to suggest that it must indeed be cold, if the evidence of her breasts was enough to go by. He wasn't sure how she would have reacted to that, and he was enjoying being with her. He wasn't going to let seventeen years of his lewd older brothers ruin this night for him. Hell, the whole day had been great.

Ron lay there for a few minutes, unmoving, feeling himself blush at the situation they were in. He had never really slept in the same bed with a girl before and wasn't sure what he should do. He sighed softly and caught the fragrance of Hermione's hair. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the flowery scent coming from her. It was not only nice and girly, but also seemed to fit Hermione's personality.

He moved a bit, trying to get himself comfortable without falling over the edge of the bed, or knocking Hermione out either, and wound up placing his hand on top of her hip. She didn't seem to mind, as she didn't move at all, so he left it there. Although he wasn't sure what he should do now, since he didn't want her thinking that he was trying anything with her, but before he could change his mind and get up to go to another bed, he heard a soft 'hmm' come from her. Feeling a bit encouraged, he began to slowly stroke her hip with his thumb; nothing overtly sexual about it, just enjoying the feel of someone else next to him. Even though the material of her nightie seemed to be made of a sheer fabric, he was only a little surprised to find that it felt like silk under his hand. Without really thinking about it, he began to move his entire hand along her hip, enjoying the feel of her body and the silkiness of the material under his hand.

Hermione sighed softly as she felt Ron move his hand more and more along her hip, and little did she know, she was pushing back against him ever so slightly. Wanting to feel his hands over more of her body, but not sure of how to ask him, she turned over so that she was on her back. It made Ron scoot over a bit so she had room to move without any accidents. She smiled up at Ron as he continued to rub her leg. He'd paused, but the smile she gave him made him feel okay about what was going on, and his hand slowly drifted to rub her thigh. She raised her arm up and hooked it around his neck, pulling Ron down to her so she could kiss him. He let himself be guided and kissed her back, feeling her tongue lick lightly along his lips until he opened them enough for it to slip inside completely.

Ron moaned again at the intrusion and pushed his own tongue into her warm mouth to reciprocate the gesture. Neither of them quite realized where Ron's hand was going, but the sensations resulting from it caused their kiss to deepen, and become hungry. Ron's hand continued to trail down the top of Hermione's thigh, and he really wasn't paying attention to where his hand was so close to, he just knew he wanted to feel more of her skin and hadn't noticed that she had also parted her thighs a bit. He felt a bit bold, so he moved his hand under the nightie. He was planning on just rubbing his hand lightly along her covered sex, and nearly gasped in shocked surprise when he discovered that she wasn't wearing any knickers.

Ron pulled back to look into Hermione's eyes, leaving his hand where it was, not sure if he would be able to sleep if he couldn't go farther. He wasn't going to be a prick about this, but it was hard to think with something other than that in this kind of situation. "Are you sure?" he asked, hoping that she knew what he meant so he wouldn't have to go into detail. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to do it, and he felt a little bad about her being more experienced with this than he was, but if he had to pick someone to do this with for the first time, it would definitely be Hermione.

"I'm sure," she whispered, pulling Ron back down to her to resume their kissing. Ron wasn't so sure, and his kiss relayed that to the girl beneath him, but Hermione wanted him to enjoy this as much as she would. She thrust her tongue forward, teasing it against Ron's tongue, against his lips, and pulling back ever so slowly, coaxing him to deepen the kiss into her own mouth. She was rewarded when he did, but a moment later, she began to pull away, shifting upwards into a sitting position. Ron frowned at her, his hand still in between her thighs as he really hoped he hadn't done something this time to warrant her pulling away, but before he could voice his worries, Hermione began to move.

Ron watched in surprised pleasure as Hermione reached down to the hem of her gown and started pulling it upwards and over her head to remove it completely. Ron had looked away instinctively, after all, this was his best friend. His best friend that he was falling in love with, if not already there. Shyly, Ron looked over Hermione's nude body, the lower half still mostly under the blankets, but he could see her breasts, and they were so beautiful to him. "You're beautiful," he whispered, and smiled at how she started fidgeting under his intense gaze, and he leaned forward to kiss her lips gently.She smiled back at him when their lips parted, and she felt herself relax more now that she knew what he thought of her body. She would have liked to pride herself on being self confident, but when it came to things like this, physical attributes, it was a lot different than just being clever. Ron shifted and settled himself between her legs, placing soft kisses along her jaw before moving to her neck. Hermione wrapped her arms around Ron's back and pulled him down further until he was flush against her chest.

He moaned at feeling her naked breasts pressing against him, swearing he could feel her nipples hard against his chest. Ron moved his head back to look into her eyes, and slowly closed the space to capture her mouth in a slow kiss. They'd lost count of how many times they'd kissed tonight, but once again she parted her lips, accepting his tongue into her mouth, moaning into him as she felt him grind his erection into her thigh. Hermione couldn't help but push against it; she was getting a little restless. She loved the attention he was lavishing on her, all along her neck and shoulders, but she really wanted more, and hoped that he did, too.

She unclasped her hands from around his back, and moved one down between them, searching until they came into contact with the waist band of his pajama bottoms. When she felt the top of them, she slipped her first two fingers underneath the elastic, and shuffled them down as much as she could without either of them moving, and the fact that he had about six inches over her in the height department. She was only able to get them down just past his behind before she couldn't reach anymore, and didn't want to wait.

Ron hadn't noticed what she had been doing until he felt his trousers being pushed down, and then he lifted himself up so he could look down at her face better, and down between their bodies, too. He searched her eyes for any sign that this had gone too far, but she only smiled and nodded, with the most heart warming look in her eyes he'd ever seen. Merlin, he'd really fallen hard for this one.

In a way that wouldn't jostle the bed around too much, Ron sat up briefly and placed his hands at his waist, slowly pushing the last of his clothing off of his legs, and dropping them behind him on the bed. Now, he was just as nude as Hermione was, and he hoped to god he'd interpreted her actions correctly. "Okay?" he asked, still unsure.

"Perfect," she answered, lying back down and spreading her legs apart. Ron looked a little nervous, but moved to lie back on top of Hermione. She sighed in pleasure as she felt his own naked body pressed against hers. It had been a little over a year since the last time she had been intimate with a boy, but the fact that it was Ron made it worth it. She did feel a little regret at having given her virginity to Viktor, considering they hadn't even stayed together longer than a week after they had sex, but there was nothing she could do to change that, so she vowed to put it completely out of her mind. Besides, she had Ron with her now, and hopefully she would for a very long time, if he'd have her.

Ron trailed kisses along Hermione's neck, pausing to suck lightly at the juncture where her neck slipped down to meet her shoulder. Hermione moaned in pleasure, arching up slightly against him as she ran her hands over his back, which oddly made her consider paying more attention to Quidditch. If it gave him muscles like that even on his back, it certainly wasn't as bad as she previously thought. Hermione almost froze when she felt Ron's erection slide along the side of her thigh, leaving behind a trail of precum in its wake.

Smirking to herself, she moved her right hand from Ron's back and brought it down to his stomach. She smoothed her hands over his belly, and soon went lower, searching for his cock. Ron tried to hold back the excited shudder it sent through him when Hermione's hand bumped into his cock, and he hoped he didn't embarrass himself when he let out a moan when she wrapped her hand around his length. He'd stopped kissing his way down her chest, still a bit tentative about touching her, and he was really hoping to get his mouth on her nipples, but now he had other things on his mind. He leaned his head down, resting it beside her neck as he savored the pleasure he was receiving as she stroked her hand over his cock. "I'm going to come if you keep doing that," he mumbled against her neck.

"Sorry," she whispered, and he could tell she was smiling as she removed her hand and placed it once again on to his now sweaty back.

"S'okay." Ron lifted his head to look down into her eyes, which looked just as they had before. "I just don't want to come yet." Hermione nodded her understanding and pulled Ron's face toward hers once more, thinking that kissing him was soon going to become an addiction. A few moments passed and Ron moved his right hand from behind Hermione's head to trail down her body. He stopped his hand's exploration when it came in contact with her sex. Hermione continued kissing Ron as he moved his fingers into her. Ron wanted to pull back and comment on how wet she was for him, but he figured that might sound a bit clichéd, so he opted not to.

Hermione gasped into Ron's mouth as she felt his fingers enter her. Ron thrust two of his fingers a bit, enjoying the warm feel of Hermione around him. He would have kept it up a bit longer, but Hermione grabbed his arm, halting his movement. "I want you," she whispered up at him.

Ron shuddered at the huskiness of her voice, full of want, and maybe she wouldn't think he'd sound stupid if he'd said everything that was going through his mind at the time. Removing his fingers from within her, he raised himself up some and looked down at Hermione. "Are you sure you're sure?"

"Yes," she replied, smiling up at him, amused. He was so sweet, despite the temper tantrums she knew waited for a perfect time to jump out and make him act like an idiot; he was her idiot now, though. With a nod, Ron swallowed, and reached down to steady his cock, lining it up to her body. He breathed in before pushing forward, and Hermione moaned in pleasure as she felt him enter her body. It felt wonderful to have her friend, boyfriend?, inside of her. Ron shivered and had to pause to keep himself from coming at the feel of her warm wetness surrounding him.

After a moment, Ron leaned back down on top of Hermione and began to thrust slowly at first, before picking up speed. Hermione hooked her hands over on to Ron's shoulders as his thrusting became faster and faster. She began panting, and rocking her hips back against him, and pushed her head back against the pillows when he made a particularly hard thrust, making her insides quiver. She knew he was being gentle, not wanting to hurt her, but she didn't say anything, letting him become comfortable with this. Next time would be better, and she smiled at the pleasure running through her body as well as the fact that there would definitely be a next time.

Ron was quickly approaching his orgasm, and he had wanted to last as long as possible, to make this last as long as possible. He had no idea if he was doing this well enough, but judging by the sounds his lover was making, he had a pretty good idea of how he was doing. It was his first time, and he had to admit it wasn't going to be absolutely perfect. Looking down at Hermione, so beautiful lying there beneath him, panting and moaning as he thrust hard one last time before he felt his orgasm ripped from his body.

He laid there on top of Hermione, though mindful not to squash her. It was hard to forget, when her breasts were heaving against his chest while they both regained their breath. Hermione hugged Ron to her, shuddering from a few after shocks herself, and feeling wonderfully sated. Ron moved from off Hermione and lay down on his side, facing her when he felt her shift a bit under him. They smiled shyly at each other, having shared something with each other that was both exhilarating and exciting. Ron leaned over to give Hermione one last kiss before his breathing began to even out, and he drifted off to sleep. Hermione smiled at Ron before sitting up to close the curtains around his bed, just in case the others came back before she woke up. She was too tired to move right now, so she snuggled into Ron's warmth and fell asleep next to him.

@>*~

Ron shifted in his sleep, and let a frown crease his forehead as he tried to block out the noises he was hearing, not yet able to distinguish them from either being a dream, or if he was waking up. Finally, he decided just to open his eyes when the noises didn't go away, but rather got louder, and voices started to sound. He saw the heavy dark fabric of his bed curtains, which he hadn't recalled closing all the way. Ron usually left them half open on the side facing towards Harry's bed; it'd become a habit since the first few times years ago when he'd gotten tangled in the curtain when he jolted out of bed to wake his friend from a nightmare. Squinting in the dim light within the curtains, he sat up in bed, or tried to, at least, but found he was being held down.

Turning his head to determine the restraining item, all he got was a bunch of hair in his face. He pulled back and blinked his eyes slowly, realizing that he wasn't alone in his bed. Suddenly, everything that happened the night before came crashing back to him, and he really hoped he hadn't simply gotten drunk with the other boys and had a very pleasant dream. Ron's gaze moved lower, and he saw the blanket was down around both of their waists, leaving him with an eye full of creamy, smooth-looking skin, and some very nice breasts pressed against his side. Ron smiled down at Hermione, who had tilted her head to look back at him. _It wasn't a dream, then,_ Ron thought.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Ron laid his finger over her mouth before she could voice whatever thought she'd had, and softly whispered, "Shh." She nodded, and belatedly heard the voices coming from the other side of the curtains, from all directions. Reaching down instinctively, Hermione pulled the blanket back up to cover her body, just in case one of Ron's roommates decided to pull back the curtains and wake him up. _They certainly would be in for a surprise,_ she thought. Ron sat up fully, and dug through the jumble of clothes and bed covers at the end of the bed to find his boxers and pajamas. He pulled them on as best he could, though they were a bit twisted around the waist.

Ron pulled the curtain open infinitesimally and slipped through it, making sure it was closed behind himself so that the other boys didn't see his girlfriend. His girlfriend? Ron smiled at that, and happened to be staring right at Seamus Finnigan. "Morning, Ron," Seamus said, smiling back at Ron, whose mind had snapped back to the present situation, but it certainly left him with a happy feeling inside.

Making his way to the chair next to the other side of his bed, the opposite one he'd gotten out of, Ron picked up his bathrobe. "When did you guys get back?" Ron asked, trying to seem casual as he held the robe in his hands, ambling around to the side of his bed he'd slipped out from.

"'Round five this morning, I reckon," the other boy answered, turning to grab something from his trunk. Ron took that moment to stuff the robe through the curtains to Hermione. "Dean and I were out drinking all night." Seamus grinned when he turned around, pulling a shirt over his head before continuing. "I was three sheets to the wind, mate; I don't even really remember much."

Ron chuckled along with his roommate, and nodded at Dean when he came back into the room from the lavatory. _Great,_ Ron thought, how was he going to get them out of here so Hermione could leave? If he was able to get them to leave, she wouldn't have to walk to her own dorm so obviously wearing Ron's bathrobe, not to mention them all watching her get out of his bed. Hermione, though, had to hold her hands to her mouth to keep from giggling. She'd sat up on the bed, cross-legged, and was waiting for a sign that she could leave without walking past all of her male classmates. She wasn't ashamed of being caught in Ron's bed, if that were to happen, but she had no idea what she'd say to them, and definitely knew she would blush.

They weren't really a public couple, and only a few people had seen them kiss, or sit close enough for rumors to start. Hermione didn't want them to think she did this for all the boys, just jumped in bed with them after a couple kisses. To be honest, it would seem like it was too soon for them to have gone as far as they did, but Hermione knew, deep down, that it had been the right thing to do. After all, it was Ron; she smiled. "Ron, you seen Hermione lately?" Dean asked when he walked into the room. It'd gotten brighter in the room, due to the rising sun shining through the window, and Hermione watched the boy's faint shadow through the curtain. "Lavender said she wasn't in their room last night, or this morning; wonder where she is."

When Ron heard himself addressed, he was about to say, 'what?' but the question that followed made him pause. Before he could recover and give Dean an answer, or make a stuttering fool out of himself by trying, Neville beat him to it. "She's probably a-at the library," he said loudly, drawing their attention. "She told me she wanted to get started on working on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. You know Hermione," he said, giving a weak grin, "she likes to get an early start on her studies."

"Maybe," Seamus agreed, tying the last bow on his shoe before standing up. "Well, I'm heading down for breakfast. I didn't get much to eat last night."

"Yeah, you were too busy snogging Dennis in the corner last night," Dean said, laughing, and stood up beside his friend. Seamus rolled his eyes and they both made their way towards the door, still chatting. Ron knew that neither of them really would care where Hermione was, only if she was in danger, but she wasn't. The two boys had more important things to talk about, like their love lives. Seamus and Dennis Creevey had been dating on and off for over a month now, and was it really Seamus' fault that every once in a while he liked to have a good snog with his lover?

Dean kept laughing, following Seamus out the door, still taking the piss out of the other boy. Ron, however, preferred to keep his love life to himself, shaking his head when he heard Seamus defend himself with, 'you're just jealous I get some on a regular basis and you don't.' Ron was about to say something to Hermione as he bent down to grab another pair of underwear when he realized that Neville was still in the room. He stood up and smiled nervously at the other boy. "Aren't you going to get something to eat, too?" Ron asked hopefully, shifting from one foot to the other.

Neville smiled at him, then ducked his head. "I... um. I know Hermione's here," he said quietly, not wanting to alarm either of them, Ron or Hermione. Hermione heard what Neville said, though, and she smiled to herself as she wrapped the front of the robe around herself. It was too big for her, but she didn't care; she only pulled the extra material up and smelled it, reminding her of the boy she'd just spent a great night with.

"Oh," Ron squeaked, wishing for once his voice wouldn't sound like someone had kicked him in the bollocks. This might be the time to stand up for his girlfriend, but before he could say anything, Neville got there first, again.

"Don't worry, Ron, I won't say anything," Neville replied, smiling before he grabbed his bag from the end of his bed and walked towards the door, shutting it after himself. Ron sighed out a breath of relief when the door clicked shut. He knew Neville wouldn't say anything to anyone else, especially since he was seeing someone that not all the other Gryffindors would approve of. Ron still thought it was weird, for Neville of all people, to be dating a Slytherin, but as he became more familiar with Blaise, and Ron would even go as far as to say 'getting to know' him, he had to admit that maybe he had been wrong about all Slytherins being evil prats, though it was a far cry for him to think Malfoy was anything more than that, and a dirty ferret, to boot. Not even Malfoy could ruin his day today, though, and he went over to his bed and pulled back the curtains.

"They're all gone," he said to the messy-haired girl sitting on his bed. Hermione looked up to see his face, and they both smiled, seemingly all they could do at the moment. She unfolded her legs and stuck one over the edge to touch the floor, and stood up from the bed, taking Ron's proffered hand for support. They walked like that to the door of the seventh year boys' dorm, and Ron opened it to look out. He stuck his head into the hall and made sure no one was lurking outside. The coast was clear, so he opened the door all the way, letting Hermione pass through. She stepped past him, and then turned, standing up on her toes to reach him, and gave Ron a quick kiss to the lips. Hermione leaned back and smiled again before she started down the hallway, heading for the girls' dorm. Ron grinned after her and turned to start getting ready for the day, very glad of the fact it didn't seem she regretted what they'd done the night before.

@>*~

It was early Sunday morning when Remus was hurrying down the stairs to the third floor from his office, trying valiantly not to drop the few papers he was trying to shove back into the pages of a rather large book. He could very well have taken the book back to the Restricted Section at another time, but he had a lot of things to do today, and didn't feel the need to waste any time scurrying up and down staircases just for one item. Managing not to walk into anything while his head was down, and thankful that it was Sunday morning and no students were about, Remus shut the book holding his papers, and continued down the halls to the Headmaster's office. After many requests for a private conversation with the elder wizard, Lupin was rewarded with this scheduled meeting, for which he refused to be late.

Those many previous requests had been brushed off by the Headmaster, not even giving Lupin much of a chance to speak before he was waved off. Albus only gave him the same short answers each time they were alone, but those excuses were starting to wear thin. Lupin had to give the man credit, though, for doing all the things he did, managing all the things he took care of. The last time Remus had requested a meeting, Albus had been rummaging through several books on his desk at the time, researching Merlin knew what. Remus' curiosity got the better of it, and he was about to ask, but then thought better of it, since the Headmaster had all but forgot he was there, having already agreed to a meeting the next morning.

Lupin wasn't quite sure of what time this morning Albus had meant, but he didn't want to find out from McGonagall where the Headmaster had whisked off to after breakfast, so he'd chosen a time well before breakfast. It was half six in the morning, and Lupin was almost out of breath by the time he got to the last corridor to Dumbledore's office. He walked at a normal pace down the last stretch, as opposed to the bordering on jogging he'd been doing all the way down there, which had still taken ten minutes. He had no idea how the students made it to classes on time with all this running around, in crowds, with many distractions, no less; he marveled that he had once done it himself, but he had more important things to think on right now, rather than old memories.

He spoke the most recent password he knew for the golden statuary gargoyle, and was glad to see the figure begin to turn with a dull scraping sound, exposing the spiral staircase concealed behind. Lupin darted up them, waiting impatiently for more to be revealed so he could get to the hidden half-floor on which the Headmaster's office was located. Once in the hallway, he knocked on the wooden door, and waited. It clicked open gently, and he took that as his cue to enter the room. "Sir," he said as a greeting when he stepped through the doorway, shutting the door behind himself.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, and there were still several books laid out on his desk, now void of the various trinkets that usually resided around its edges. Lupin walked to the desk, taking a seat in an armchair in front of it, and set his book down on his lap. Dumbledore didn't look up, but rather flipped a page, gazing at the words written on it. Lupin honestly had doubts that these books had anything to do with the reason Harry was missing. They seemed to be some type of medical books, judging from the diagrams he could see, and the spines on a stack of books at the corner of the desk. He really didn't want to think too much on that, though, not quite content to think, and still trying to convince himself out of thinking it, that Harry was sick in some way, and that Dumbledore knew all about it.

Lupin cleared this throat, and Dumbledore looked up, a small twitch at the corners of his lips. Oh, how that would infuriate Remus, if he wasn't such a passive person. Remus knew, or at least suspected, that Dumbledore knew more than he was saying, and hopefully Remus would find out in this meeting, since that was what it was for, to begin with. If Dumbledore knew something important, something that could help save Harry's life yet again, and was not actively doing anything to seek out the boy to provide such active help, he certainly didn't look very worried about it.

The old wizard breathed in deeply as he sat back in his chair, folding his hands together on top of the open book lying on his desk. "Yes, yes," he began, nodding, "Harry is presumed missing." It grated on Lupin's nerves to hear the obvious stated, and he knew he shouldn't even begin to get frustrated right now. He'd spoken to Dumbledore enough over the years to know that this would go somewhere more often than not, if it was serious, which it was. "Telling students he is away on errands no longer satisfies their curiosity."

Lupin nodded. He had had several uneasy classes, some with even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and they obviously knew something was not as it should be. The Slytherins were a bit more easy going about this, since Harry Potter was gone, and they seemed not to care less about it. They seemed the same as always, if a bit more reserved, most likely due to lack of cues to laugh from their missing Seeker's shots at the equally missing Gryffindor. The rest of Harry's house mates obviously noticed the most, but it was the younger years that seemed frightened. No doubt they had gone through their years at school hearing all about Harry Potter and what he'd done before and after beginning his years at Hogwarts, and most of them still believed there to be something big, dark, slimy and scaly living in the school. As long as Harry was there to protect them from it, they had nothing to fear.

The seventh years took things in step, almost knowingly, but there was worry throughout them all, even the Slytherins. No one seemed to know where either boy had gone, and those who were close to them were barraged with questions, as was Lupin, being Harry's guardian, albeit he was approached least of all, and usually only by Gryffindors closer to Harry. He'd find Ron and Hermione later today, and relay the things they needed to know about their best friend, but first he had to find things out for himself. "What have you been doing?" Lupin asked, knowing it would both get him some answers as well as facts he wasn't already privy to.

"I've been making sure everything is safe for the boys," said Dumbledore, leaning forward again, and closing the book he had open, sliding it off to the side a bit. Lupin thought the old wizard was going to sigh for a moment, and noted that the Headmaster did look very tired; whatever it was that had been taking up all of his time lately had taken a toll. "Not knowing even remotely close to what route they might have taken, it would be near impossible to keep tack of them, to keep them out of trouble."

"So, you're waiting for them to find trouble themselves?" Lupin asked. It did sound like the situation that these two particular boys might get into when left to their own devices, and having gone looking for trouble in the first place. He had to admit it made a strange bit of sense, but it was a risk, definitely.

Dumbledore smiled softly, pushing up more lines in his old face. "Aurors associated with the Order that are on holidays from the Ministry have been alerted, and are searching abroad for anything relating to the boys. They are as safe as they can be, until they reach their destination." Lupin nodded again, and despite having been adamant about this meeting, he really didn't have much to say, and his eyes roamed over the books on the desk as he made sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

A title of one of the books caught his eye, _Magical Gestation and Its Side Effects._ Remus' brow began to furrow, and he looked up to the Headmaster, who was watching him carefully. "Remus," he began, looking the werewolf in the eyes, "there are things I know, and things I do not. I will not interfere with Harry's journey, but I will give aid when I can, and when it is asked for. As for the things _you_ do not know, I believe it wise for Harry to tell you himself, though you are an intelligent man."

The frown had faded from his features, and Remus had to take a moment, and a much longer time span later on, to reflect on what his mind was insisting was happening. "I do believe," Dumbledore began again, thankfully not letting Remus' mind wander too far, "that I will ask your assistance before this is over." He sounded serious, almost grave, and Remus knew he was about to be leveled with something important. All he could do was nod again, and he excused himself from the Headmaster. There wasn't much more to say, and Remus couldn't seem to get his thoughts straight at the moment. What made it worse, though, was that he somehow knew that Albus had suspected the meeting would go this way, with Remus leaving with his thoughts tangled up.

 _Oh, well._ Lupin sighed when he was outside of the office, and facing the golden statue again. Once he was down in the main hallway again, he began on his way towards the library to drop off his book. Then he had to make his way down to the dungeons and into Snape's office. That's what his papers were for, some notes for things he was going to be teaching this year, and needed some Potions supplies for various things he wanted to show them. It wasn't the first time he'd tried to collaborate between the two classes, and Snape was still suspicious about it. He wanted Lupin's job, no doubt about that, and even Snape didn't deny it. He didn't quite understand why Lupin would want to have anything to do with his classes, or if he was simply trying to curb his curriculum into things easier for the duller students to catch on to.

Remus still tried, though, but regardless of how that went over personally between the two of them, he still needed some ingredients. First of all, he needed Snape's help to find the damn things, since Remus had no idea where to look in the Potion master's stock room, or even the shelves that lined the classroom. He'd just leave the lists and outlines on Severus' desk, so Lupin didn't lose them in the mess of papers that was his own desk. Most students who'd come into his office had been surprised to see the mess, and it boggled Hermione's mind. Apparently, she had thought he would be so articulate and neat about his space, like he was in the classroom. He had too much to do to prepare for class and look into things to satisfy his own curiosity that had nothing to do with school work.

So, his desk tended to become a mess, and a subsequent black hole for any important papers to become very adept at the game of being elusive. He'd had to ask for several copies of the permission slips to register books taken out of the Restricted Section of the library, and Madam Pince was definitely not happy about that. He nodded to the old vulture-like woman when he entered the library, and gestured the book in his hands towards the back, where he was taking it straight to the locked section. Merlin only knows what time she got up in the morning, or went to bed at night, or whether she even slept at all, opting rather to guard her precious horde of library books. Even Hermione rarely got up this early to hit the books, so Lupin knew he'd have to seek out her and Ron later on.

He thought it would be a good idea to keep them informed, so as not to lose another set of students to the lures of action and adventure. If they knew what was going on, or as much as anyone seemed to know, or as much as Lupin had figured out yet, perhaps they wouldn't feel the need to run off and try to save the day -- and Harry. If Dumbledore had people looking for the boys, that was good, but even he had no idea where Durmstrang was located. That put it at a bit of a moot point to go and try to find them after they'd had time to get there themselves, but then again, if they were hiding, which they most likely were, since neither of them was that stupid, it would be very difficult to find them after they got off the isle.

It would be a strategic advantage to find out where the castle was located, but that would be a mystery until they spoke to either of the boys. They all knew it was a definite bet that Draco was leading the way, but that wasn't the problem. It made sure that Harry wouldn't simply get lost in the middle of nowhere, though there was a potentially bad aspect of who was leading Harry. Lupin surely knew the reason for Ron's animosity towards the blond, as he did for the rest of the Weasleys, and many other people. No one had actually spoken the concern that no doubt everyone had thought of: was Draco leading him to Voldemort? Or, was the Slytherin simply trying to keep Harry from getting himself killed?

Lupin would like to believe the latter, but it was hard to tell. He'd been absent during the time the boys had apparently started their relationship. How they had managed to get together, Lupin couldn't figure out, and there wasn't anyone he could ask. There was obviously a reason they were going to see Snape, but for the life of him, Remus couldn't figure it out. If Dumbledore's books were anything to go by, it was definitely something medical. He stepped through the threshold into his classroom, and hardly realized that he'd walked all the way back there from the library. He looked at the clock at the back of the room, and it had been an hour and a half since he'd left for the private meeting.

His chambers were on the fourth floor, located past his office in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. There were a couple classrooms, actually, but this was the main one that he preferred to use, since it wasn't so far to lug books into. For all the years he'd spent living as a Muggle, he'd gotten used to doing things by hand, and he still hadn't quite gotten back into living as a wizard yet, despite it being almost five years. Lupin walked up the steps, deciding he needed some time to think before he walked all the way down to the dungeons. There were far too many stairs, corridors and every other type of thing that took a lot of walking in this castle, but he didn't mind. The chamber that now functioned as his living quarters was one of the few in the school that was on a corner.

Remus liked it because he could look out the window in the morning, or any time, really. He could always see the state of the moon from there, and he liked it, even though it wasn't ever a good sign for him. He wondered if that was how women viewed their impending 'time of the months', looking at their calendars, knowing it was coming. He smiled faintly as he walked through a short hall to his private rooms. Sirius used to call the time of the full moons Remus' time of the month. Sitting down in the chair behind the desk in his rooms, which wasn't quite as messy as the one in his office, Remus stared out at the early morning sky. It was a lot to take on for Remus, after the accident in the Department of Mysteries.

With James gone, Harry had been left supposedly in Sirius' care. With no one to help Remus during the full moons, he was in no shape to raise a child, and with Sirius in Azkaban, neither was he. At the time, Remus had thought it a good thing for Harry to be with his hateful relatives, rather than a man who murdered his parents, whether or not he was the boy's godfather. Remus knew that James would never have wanted Harry to be raised by the Dursleys, but that was, sadly, the way it had to happen. That was all in the past, though; yet without any of that happening, Remus wouldn't be the one who now had custody of Harry Potter. He knew the boy missed Sirius, and that he still blamed himself for what transpired, but there was nothing they could do now.

Harry hadn't stayed with Remus over the past summer, but this one coming up he would. Dumbledore had finally decided that it would be alright for Harry to leave the Dursleys, as long as he was never far from Lupin for very long, and if Lupin had to leave, or during the full moons, Harry would be at the Burrow. Harry hadn't had much to say about how he felt about living with Remus over the summer, and then having to face the fact that he was out of school, and would need a job somewhere. Lupin had talked to him, about Sirius, about James and Lily, and other things last summer, but Harry hadn't actually told him how he felt about being shifted off between all of his father's best friends.

Remus half expected him to say, "Who next? Peter?" The thought made Remus angry, and he let out a sigh, leaning his head back against the chair. No, Harry would never, ever have anything more to do with Peter Pettigrew than he had to. It was too much that he ever had to hear the man's name, or know that he was out there, planning Harry's death along with his master. It wasn't a good thought to think about dying, but it was a realistic thing, especially considering the ongoing war. He didn't think he could take it if Harry died before him, and just then, Lupin realized what Dumbledore would need him to do. He wanted Lupin to go to Durmstrang and help the boys make it back safely, along with Snape.

Snape was another thing entirely. He was so much different than Sirius, or anyone he'd ever known; and Lupin had barely known anyone from Slytherin in his entire life, not counting students and talking to Phineas over the summers, though the painting rarely ever wanted to talk to him. Mrs. Black tended not to yell as loudly at him, considering he was a Dark creature, so he even got a word or two that wasn't anything to do with screaming about blood traitors and scum. Lupin had taken over main residence of Twelve Grimmauld Place, since he basically lived there over the last summer anyway, and the one before that, and he would have stayed there with Sirius, if things had turned out differently.

He really wished things had. Harry would still have his godfather, and Remus would still have his last best friend. It was sad to think about, and he couldn't help but miss Sirius. They had lost so much time when Sirius was in Azkaban, and now they'd never get it back. The two of them had never had a relationship, per se, but it came close enough sometimes. There were many nights they'd sleep in the same bed, holding each other for comfort. Nothing had ever gone past the occasional, more intimate touches between the two of them, as they always had something more important to think about. That was gone now, and it hurt; it hurt a lot more people than just Remus, but he at least was going to try his damnedest to make things better for Harry. It was definitely what both of his friends would have wanted.

There was no one left for him to call much of a friend anymore, either. Tonks was the only one in the Order that could make him laugh, and really feel it. She cheered him up sometimes, and was usually the only one to notice when he was down, and he loved her for it. She was a great person, but she wasn't what Remus was looking for. Over the past two years, there had also been an awkward comaraderie between himself and Severus. They, aside from Kingsley, were the only two younger, male members in the Order of the Phoenix. Aside from their past differences and difficulties, they found it was almost impossible for them not to spend at least some time together, time that wasn't for business only.

It had started over last summer that Lupin had thought of the idea to combine small parts of their two classes at school. They didn't get along too well at all, by all means, no, but they still couldn't help but be drawn together. Believe it or not, and most people wouldn't even see the little things, they were a lot more alike than they would care to admit. Lupin saw it, but maybe it was only because he was looking too hard. He could admit he was lonely, and though spending the next summer with Harry was going to be fun, to have someone stay with him the entire time, to teach him many more things than were allowed at school, wasn't what he needed. Remus lifted his hands from his lap, and set them on the arm rests of his chair, and pushed himself up from the seat. It didn't do to dwell on his thoughts for the entire day, and he did have a few things to do before Monday's classes.

@>*~

After the two of them had woken up later that night, they had both gotten up from the bed and put the rest of their clothes on. It felt slightly awkward having slept in the same bed again, and having again ended up closer than they were when they'd originally went to sleep. Neither of them seemed to want to stay in the room; Draco paced almost imperceptibly, but Harry could tell he was in a bit of a mood. What mood, Harry had no idea, but when he suggested they go for a walk, or something, he was glad it seemed the right thing to say. Shouldn't Draco be the one being supportive of Harry's moods, since he was the pregnant one, after all? He supposed it just wasn't like Draco to actually know how to do that, but he still barely knew the other boy, so how was he to judge? They kept their hoods up after they left their room, and as they walked through the wizarding community. For all Draco knew, someone might recognize him, since he knew he had relatives somewhere in France, though he had no idea where.

It wasn't quite dark yet, hence the walk was killing time as well as preventing Draco wearing a hole in the rug in front of the fireplace. "We should get some food to pack." It was the first thing either of them had said since leaving the hotel. Draco almost made it sound like they were packing for a trip together, and Harry had to admit they sort of were. Together wasn't what was so strange about it, but rather where they were going. They'd been forced to do a lot of things together over the years, in hopes of lessening their rivalry at school, but they hadn't really worked. Sure, they'd have their moments, usually less than five minutes total, where they got along, but this 'trip' had severely broken that record. The thing was, though, would they be the same when they went back to school, or would they be how they always had been?

"Just in case we can't get a place to stay, or get hungry in transit," Draco clarified when he glanced over to see the odd look on Harry's face. He had been thinking about that, too, but in the back of his mind, since other thoughts had happened to come up. Draco had spotted a newsagent ahead, and he slowed as he began to reach into the bag, which was slung over Harry's shoulder, still covering his Gryffindor badge. Harry slowed as well, sighed, and watched Draco dig in the bag. The blond could have carried the bag, and not burden Harry with it; it's not like Draco wasn't strong enough, or would be willing to do it, it simply had become habit for Harry to carry it, since it covered his badge. First of all, Draco hadn't even realized he'd stuffed his personal things, such as his money, into the main bag. He'd had it in his pockets, but he must have put it in when he'd changed his pants. Yes, he'd brought a change of pants.

Draco grabbed hold of what he felt was his bag, pulled it out, and spared a glance at Harry's badge before meeting the other boy's eyes. "Come on," he said, and started walking, barely noticing that they'd both stopped completely. When they reached the store, Draco hesitated before going inside, and he quickly went about gathering non-perishable foodstuffs for them to take with them. There would be food at the hotels, Harry thought, but maybe if they got stuck in some remote place where there was strange food or something, it might be a good idea to have something of their own after all. He knew Draco was right, and besides, it would be a good idea to be able to have a snack whenever he wanted, say, in the middle of the night. He doubted Draco was taking into consideration any potential food cravings. Harry had been trying to remember all the things that pregnant Muggle women went through, from what he'd seen years ago on telly and in magazines.

It was one of the drawbacks of being pregnant, Harry thought, or was it a good thing? He supposed it'd only be bad if he craved something, then by the time he got it, he'd think it was disgusting; and it wasn't like he expected Draco to dart off and get him whatever he wanted to eat at the moment. Harry absently began rubbing a hand over his stomach as he watched Draco set a pile of things at the till, though still a small enough pile to fit into their bag, unless they were going to enlarge the inside of it. The worker glanced back from Draco to Harry, and looked curiously at Harry's stomach. Harry looked down as well, and jerked his hand down automatically. He wasn't embarrassed, but he didn't want everyone to think he was pregnant. Maybe she just thought they had the munchies or something, and that was what the tummy rubbing was for. It was still quite flat, though Harry could tell it was protruding slightly, down towards his groin. One wouldn't be able to notice unless they were close enough, knew as well, and viewed him from the side, and even then it might just look like a bit of a gut.

Harry vaguely heard Draco speak a bit in French as he conversed with the girl, and Harry turned and started for the door, going to wait outside for the blond. He supposed he should have waited for Draco, to let him dump an armful of food into the bag that he carried, but when Draco caught up with him, he had all of it in another paper bag anyway. The blond gestured for them to move away from right in front of the store, and they walked a bit down the street before Draco stopped and turned to face Harry. "Give me the bag," he said, and he pulled out his wand from its custom pocket on his robes, and then took the proffered bag from Harry, and set it down on the ground between them.

"Now what?" Harry asked, watching the other boy warily, not sure why he'd pulled his wand out, unless he was, indeed, going to enlarge the inside of the bag. Draco reached his right hand up to flatten the upper part of Harry's robes, and then pointed his wand at it. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco beat him to it, saying a couple words Harry didn't quite catch. A small bolt of clear, bubbly light shot from Draco's wand, and Harry felt it hit him, and almost was shocked to think Draco might be doing something to hurt or incapacitate him. Harry barely realized that Draco had leaned down and was adding the bag of food into the larger bag, and hooking it over his own head and shoulder. Looking down, Harry saw that Draco had turned his badge from Gryffindor to Slytherin. Draco had turned and taken slow steps away from him, obviously waiting for him to catch up; Harry did so, but he wasn't going to say anything about the change.

He'd never told anyone the Sorting Hat's first choice for him would have been Slytherin, but maybe Draco would have a little bit of respect for Harry if he told him. Harry wondered why Draco had picked now to take the bag from him, and change the badge. Was there something in the bag that Harry shouldn't have access to? No, that was just his paranoia of not being told things before it was too late flaring up, he thought bitterly. He'd carried the bag most of the time, so what else could it be? It's not as if Draco felt bad about him carrying it in his 'condition,' or maybe he did. "Okay, let's go," Draco said, interrupting Harry's thoughts abruptly, and before Harry could really focus on anything to respond with before the blond disappeared with a 'crack.'

Harry sighed into the evening air and closed his eyes, picturing Draco's face, his eyes, and the whole rest of him, hood up and all, though minus the bag; he hoped that didn't screw anything up, the worst time to be splinched was when you weren't even thinking of it. He felt the air around him displaced, and suddenly could feel the colder air even through his heavy, now Slytherin-badged, robe. When he opened his eyes, everything started to spin, and he tried to vaguely turn the opposite direction of Draco before he promptly threw up everything he'd eaten earlier that day. It was either Apparating in general that didn't agree with his body, to make him this sick, or it was something to do with the pregnancy. He didn't have an easily upset stomach on any given day, but every once in a while, if it got stirred up too much, like on a particular match of Quidditch where he'd spent a large amount of time spinning in Sloth Grip Rolls, it might just decide to rebel. This was different, though, and he really had to side with it being the pregnancy thing right now.

He was glad it wasn't an everyday occurrence when he woke up; he could deal with every other time he Apparated, but not every morning. Harry wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it if that was the case. He was still on his knees on the pavement, and he tried not to look at the puddle of vomit, not that it would gross him out much, but just that it was preferable not to stare at it. Instead, he opted for watching the black dragon hide boots stepping into his line of sight. He looked up a bit, and Draco looked a bit disgusted, but he held out his hand. Harry took it, and stood up. They started down the street they were on, keeping their eyes out for any hotels to stay at for the night. Harry was glad at least one of them knew the way; he didn't think he would have liked an aimless road trip.

Harry was glad that Draco seemed to know what to do, or where to go. He assumed Draco had been here before, or at least in the area, if not the same place before. The first place that seemed to be a hotel looked at least as if it had been around for a few centuries. It wasn't quite falling apart, but it could definitely use a good sprucing up. As they walked down the path leading to the door where they were hoping to stay, a low growl caught Harry's attention. He looked off to the side and squinted slightly to see in the darkness. He saw the shapes of at least two dogs, perhaps German shepherds, who were lazing about under a big tree. He made a quick step to put himself on the other side of Draco, rather than behind the other boy, putting some more distance between him and the animals. They must have been trained to stay there and not bark at every person walking up to the door; they didn't seem to be tied up, either. Not only would they scare potential patrons, but they'd wake up ones already inside the establishment.

Harry snapped out of his thoughts once again when he felt a nudge on his shoulder, and he looked back to Draco. "Sorry," he said automatically, and frowned at the exasperated look leveled at him, and then he realized Draco was holding the door open. He stepped through the door and into the lobby of the building. It looked as old inside as it did outside, and this was definitely not a Muggle hotel. "Where are we?" Harry whispered to Draco.

"Germany, by the looks of it," Draco said, gesturing to the signs around the room, which were, of course, written in the native language. Harry goggled at them, especially the 'Der Müde Reisende' one, which seemed to be the name of the hotel, as he'd seen it outside as well. "Didn't you see the dogs?" he asked, turning to glance over his shoulder at Harry, who had lagged behind again, "That's a bit too ironic for my taste." Draco walked up to the concierge and spoke to him. It sounded like English, which was a bit odd, considering. When the blond rejoined Harry, he put a hand on the dark-haired boy's elbow, and Harry thought he saw a smirk on Draco's lips, but he was mostly shaded by his hood, so Harry didn't know what he'd seen. "I don't know about you, but I'm not in the mood to sleep in the woods tonight. Come on, room 213."

"How fortunate for us, then," Harry replied, adopting a favored tone of Draco's, which wasn't very hard when he was tired and blinking heavy eyelids. He was tired, too, and would gladly go straight to sleep when they got in the room. Draco led him to a small lift on the far side of the reception area. "Were you speaking in German?" Harry asked, still wondering about that.

Draco tilted his head back some and shook his head. "I don't know anything besides English and a bit of French. I was using a Translation Spell; sounds the right language to whoever's listening." Harry nodded, really thinking he should have known that, since they'd learnt it in sixth year, but at least he found out something about Draco. It was odd to be traveling with someone he barely even knew, and what he did was spawned from animosity and bitterness, so anyone could imagine how different it would be to be traveling and being so intimate with someone whom he'd had that kind of past with.

Once the lift stopped on their floor, the second, they walked down the hall, looking for 213. Draco unlocked the door with the key he'd put in his pocket, and returned it there as soon as he'd pushed the door open. Setting the bag on the bed, Draco shuffled things around inside of it, and Harry once again noticed there was only one bed. He didn't mind, because it wasn't exactly a chore to sleep beside Draco, as long as it didn't interfere with him getting some sleep. His feet hurt, and his lower back was beginning to ache, too. It must have been the baby, he supposed, although it still would have been only the size of a quill tip so far, and unable to do much to cause physical pain. He hadn't really thought of when it had happened, when he'd actually conceived, but the baby couldn't be too big yet, since they'd only had sex for a little over a week.

Unless this was some freak occurrence in a wizard pregnancy, and his baby was halfway grown or something; anything could happen in the wizarding world, though, he knew that much. Harry made his way to the bed as well, took his robes off and tossed them over onto a chair and sat down on the end of the bed. Draco had pulled out a few items of clothing he'd stuffed in the bag before they left Hogwarts, and then pulled the bag of food out for the second time since he'd been rearranging. He put the clothes back in, and then the food, and then stuffed his personal bag back into the side, making sure he'd know exactly where it was next time he needed it. When everything was back inside the bag, Draco tied it closed, and walked around the bed, setting it down, and then sitting down himself beside Harry. He wasn't very tired, but his feet were a bit tingly, probably from being unused to walking so much.

Harry shifted over a bit when Draco sat down, not to put more distance between them, but just so he wasn't on a complete tilt. The bed wasn't very big, but it was able to hold the two of them comfortably, so it wasn't much of an issue. Draco let his body fall back on the bed gently, though bouncing Harry a little, and then sighed. Harry looked over his shoulder at the other boy, seeing him actually leaning on his elbows. "What?"

Draco turned his head to look at Harry, who just laid the rest of his body down on the bed as well, since there was no point in exerting himself sitting up when he was tired and wanted to lie down anyway. He noted Harry looked a bit worried, but for what, he had no idea. "Thinking about how much further we have to go?" he said, lying flat on the bed and resting his hands on his stomach, staring up at the ceiling.

"How come we don't just Apparate straight there? I've wanted to ask; I mean, it can be done, can't it?"

"Normally, it could be accomplished," he said, pausing a minute before he continued, "but, one, we'd need to be better at the whole thing, and I've only been doing it for a year and a half myself. Two, from what I've read, it's not good to Apparate over very long distances; that's why they invented Port Keys. And, three, we can't Apparate directly into the school, or even about four hundred meters from the doors. It has stricter and more dangerous wards protecting it than Hogwarts does."

Harry frowned at the ceiling, eyebrows pulling together slightly as he thought it over. "Then why do we stop for the night? If we could just Apparate in little jumps to each country, we'd be there a lot sooner," he surmised. He shifted his body, and felt his arm brush up against Draco's. Draco didn't move, so Harry didn't either. It wasn't like they should be shy about touching each other, especially for little things like their arms touching, when they'd already done much, much more.

"I have to remember the locations for us to Apparate each time," Draco said. "The last time I was here with my father, I was ten, so you can imagine it takes a bit for me to remember where exactly it was, and what it looked like." He sighed deeply, almost as a yawn, thinking about how long it'd taken him to recall a small tidbit of their current location. He hadn't forgotten the small restaurant they had appeared in front of. His father had taken him there for a late lunch one afternoon, and the name still made him grin. 'Die Kneipe von Han und Speiselokal.' His father had thought it was an upper class establishment, but it turned out to be a regular pub, filled with all kinds of dirty old wizards and witches. Draco let the smallest of smiles creep onto his lips, knowing his father never quite did well with Translation Spells. Lucius didn't have many, but he did have the occasional little thing that made him flustered and embarrassed. He needn't have worried about impressing Draco, though, knowing his son looked up to him whether he was perfect or not.

"Thanks for changing my badge," Harry said, not really on the topic, but they'd been quiet for a few minutes, so it kind of cleared the slate for a subject.

"Well, I can't very well let you carry the burden the whole time, can I?" Draco said, and immediately knew he really should have worded that better. He didn't necessarily think the child was a burden, but what the bloody hell was he supposed to do about it? He didn't think Harry was lying about it anymore, and that left them both with a pretty big decision to make. As much as he doubted they both wanted to make this type of choice, with each other, no less, they had to do it at some point. Draco felt Harry shift a bit more on the bed, but he didn't say anything in response. Well, that was the end of that, apparently.

Harry had opted for not saying anything, but he knew both ways it could have been interpreted. He doubted Draco meant it in a helpful way, the same as food for his cravings that Harry had thought of before; Draco wouldn't be taking the bag from him because it was heavy, he'd be taking it from him because he felt like he wasn't contributing. If anything, Harry knew Draco liked to have an equal share in everything, even if it was something as simple as carrying a bag. It wasn't even that heavy. Harry knew the blond hadn't meant it in the way of the baby, since there was no way he could lift that burden, without it being very, very messy, with lots of blood.

He really didn't want to think about that. Choosing to think about something else, Harry settled on what he'd just found out. Why didn't Draco just tell him these things from the start? It might make things a bit easier, but he supposed if he tried to pull up specific memories of something that happened eight years ago, he might not be so successful. He'd make a note not to interrupt the other boy when he looked like he was in deep thought about something, only to simply ask, 'Whatcha thinking about?' It sort of ruined the process, didn't it?

"You traveled a lot with your father, then?" Harry asked, and finished it off with a yawn. Maybe the Apparating was making him sleepy. They'd almost graduated back to a day schedule, instead of a night schedule, but then it really was more of a sleeping in until two in the afternoon deal. Merlin, he wanted to fall asleep right where he was, but he'd never be comfortable with all his clothes on, not to mention the horrible tangles he'd be in by the time he woke up. Add to that, he'd just tried to start a conversation, so he couldn't really fall asleep, could he? It felt rather good to talk with Draco. Sort of like getting to know him, if there were ever a stranger idea than that. Ron would shit himself if he saw Harry trying to chat it up with Draco Malfoy.

Draco hadn't answered, not quite sure he wanted to. He didn't have anything to lose by talking about his past, since it was in the past, after all. So were a lot of other things, like their intense dislike for each other. He'd never hated Potter, but it was just many things combined that led him to act how he had, and even now, he hadn't stopped acting that way. He didn't really want to speak about his father, but he didn't think it was so bad after he thought about it for a moment; maybe he could answer a few questions, since they seemed harmless enough.

"I've never left England much, but there were a few long trips, about a fortnight, to other places where there was a wizarding attraction. To the Castle of Durmstrang to see the school, to the dragon colonies in Romania, and a couple other places in France and Germany. Other than that, mostly just around London and Diagon Alley, and sometimes he'd taken me into Knockturn Alley. Never really did like going in there; too odd of witches for my tastes."

Harry definitely agreed with Draco on that one. In his second year, he'd accidentally Flooed into Knockturn Alley. He'd meant to go to Diagon Alley with the rest of the Weasleys when he'd been staying with them for the last bit of summer before school started. Taking his glasses off and leaning over to set them on the bedside table, he remembered being so nervous, since it was his first time traveling by Floo powder, and he'd blurted out the wrong name. Come to think of it, he'd seen Draco there, too, but he didn't want to tell the other boy that, since he'd basically spied on him and his father at the time, while hiding in some sort of human-sized chest. Draco sighed again, remembering times past with his father. Some had been good, and some bad, of course, but even though he may be better off with his father locked away in Azkaban, he still missed him sometimes.

He couldn't blame Harry for it anymore, either. With his father gone, Draco had realized how much better his life was, without the constant overbearing presence, reminding him of failure, and what would happen if he didn't do everything right. With a little help from his mother, Draco realized his father had simply got what was coming to him. No matter what he'd said or felt in fifth year, which he supposed he might want to apologize for that to Harry, he was a bit glad it had all happened. Draco was about to say more when he heard light snoring coming from the other boy. Sitting up slowly, not shaking the bed, Draco took his shirt off, and pulled his belt from the loops on his trousers before moving to Harry, and tugging up the other boy's shirt.

Harry flung his arms up in his half-sleep, allowing Draco to pull it over his head. He had no idea why he was doing it, but he really didn't want to be tangled in the dark-haired wizard's clothing, if he somehow managed to wiggle half out of it, and get Draco's arm caught in it, or something. When he pulled Harry's shirt up, he was caught staring at the still flat stomach, and couldn't help but want to touch it. He doubted he'd feel anything, and he tore his eyes away when he had to move around the other side of the bed to pull the shirt over Harry's head, messing his hair up. He wasn't even going to attempt to take Harry's trousers off, no matter how pliant Harry seemed to be right now while he was half asleep. Harry mumbled in his sleep when Draco lifted his legs onto the bed, turning him so his entire body was on the bed, with nothing hanging over the side but one of his socked feet, which Draco glared at.

Finished with arranging Harry, Draco took his shoes off, followed by his socks, and left his own trousers on as well. He pulled back the blankets on his side, and Harry shifted, pulling the blanket out from under himself and then resting it over his shoulder, too. Draco lay on his back, and reached a hand up to push the pillows into a more acceptable formation, but he was surprised when Harry moved even closer to him, and once again trapped his arm. The blond held his arm up awkwardly, with Harry's head resting on his bicep. A bit awkwardly, Draco settled his arm around Harry's shoulders. The hotel only had a single room available, but Draco had accepted, taking the liberty to go ahead and get it. He did assume they'd come to some sort of understanding in that regard, since Harry seemed to want to share a bed.

Considering what happened at the Leaky Cauldron the other night, Draco couldn't say he disagreed, but he had to admit it was a little uncomfortable for Harry to almost cuddle up to him. Draco just knew Harry was almost holding back, too, even while he was asleep, he'd never come closer than where he was now. Draco relaxed into the bed, but he couldn't stop himself from thinking. He closed his eyes and let out a deep breath; they still had a long way to go, and he hoped for Merlin's sake that Snape would still be there. That wasn't even the most prominent thing on his mind, though. It was starting to drive him nutty wondering what the hell was going on between them. Personally, he thought they should figure something out, or at least set some rules before they went any further, especially since they shared a bed. _Oh, Merlin, what the hell am I doing?_ he thought to himself.

@>*~

Harry woke up the next afternoon, or maybe it was a little later than that, because it certainly looked dark outside. Turning over in bed, he frowned when he didn't see a blur of blond hair next to him. That was how he usually identified Draco when he didn't have his glasses on, and was in the dark. He wondered where the other boy had gotten to when he heard sounds coming from the toilet. Harry rolled back over to see Draco emerge from the smaller room and walk, shirtless, over to his side of the bed. Sitting up in bed, Harry grabbed his glasses so he could see better, and was rewarded for the effort when he saw just how shirtless Draco was. He watched Draco grab something from the end of the bed (it turned out to be his shirt) when he stuck his arms through the sleeves and pulled it over his head. "What are you doing?"

"Getting ready to go. I changed my shirt," Draco said, stuffing another shirt back into the bag. Harry looked up to see the sharp spikes of blond arranged around Draco's head, noticing then it was actually wet. _He must have showered_ , Harry thought. It had been a few days, and Harry was sure he probably smelled a bit funky as well. Harry got up from the bed after untangling the blanket from his legs and stood, a bit wobbly, before he made his way towards the toilet himself, intent on cleaning up.

When he came back out, squeaky clean and quite refreshed, he saw Draco sitting in a chair, ankles crossed, and arms on the sides of the chair, waiting for Harry. He had his robes on, and had changed his hair, Harry noticed; the bag was at his feet. "Where're we going?" asked Harry.

"Poland." Draco stood up, grabbing the strap of the bag and lifted it up onto his shoulder. "Father took me there once when he was meeting up with an old school friend of his. I don't remember much of who it was; I was ten, after all." He crossed his arms and watched as Harry pulled on his own shirt, which he didn't remember having taken off, and then put his robes on, then his shoes, and was ready to go. He joined Draco at the door, and the blond looked him over, frowning slightly at his mess of hair. Harry had long since given up attempting to style it in a presentable manner, and just patted it down while it was wet; it usually worked.

"I can't wait until we're done with the Apparating," Harry said, rubbing his stomach. It still gave an unhappy lurch every once in a while after they Apparated. "I'm not sure if my stomach can take much more of it." Draco looked back at the other boy as they walked down the hall, hoods up once again, and saw Harry rubbing his stomach, again. He'd have to find out what it was about doing that, or try it himself. Now, wasn't that an awkward thought? Harry knew it was because it didn't feel good, but he still couldn't stop thinking about there being a kid in there. Not that he'd rather be at Durmstrang, but at least then he wouldn't have to Apparate. He supposed it might simply be the baby, but the rest of the sensations it gave him weren't exactly pleasant, either.

"It should only be about..." Draco paused, thinking, "...another week or less of traveling. It's a big country to span, Russia." They got back into the lift they'd taken up to their floor, and waited as it took them back down to the main floor and into the lobby.

"Is that where Durmstrang is? In Russia?" Harry asked, sounding a bit surprised. Draco sighed as he reached into his pocket for the key, catching the concierge's curious look at the mention of the Dark castle. He set the key down on the desk, and slid it towards the man, who averted his eyes from the sharp grey ones that stared back at him. The man nodded and took the key, nodded again, and Draco turned back to Harry, who could see a bit of a smirk under the hood.

"Siberian plains, from what I remember, yes." Hadn't he told Harry this the other day? "When Father took me there, of course, we were able to reach the castle in under two days' travel." They started on their way out of the hotel, but Harry slowed and made to double over, hands on his knees as he leaned down. Looking back when he realized Harry wasn't beside him, Draco paused to ask, "Alright?"

"Light-headed," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I'm okay, I think. Just a little hungry." He fought the urge to rub his stomach when he straightened up. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought Draco looked concerned. "If we're going to be Apparating any time soon, I'd rather not eat until afterwards." Draco nodded, readjusting the bag over his shoulder before walking out of 'Der Müde Reisende'. Harry couldn't help but look to the side where the dogs had been the night before, but they were nowhere to be seen. Merlin, he hoped they hadn't been waiting outside for scraps. He didn't quite like large dogs, and wasn't that an uplifting thought? Harry immediately felt depressed when they turned down an alley and stood behind a dustbin, since it wasn't an entirely wizarding area here; it was better safe, than sorry. He didn't suppose Draco wanted to be hunted down by Magical Law Enforcement Officers for exposing an established community of magical folk.

Draco went first, as usual, but he gave a minute for Harry to swallow thickly, and looked at the dark-haired boy as reassuringly as he could before he closed his eyes and disappeared with a 'pop.' Harry blinked at the spot where the blond had stood, and then shook his hands nervously before closing his own eyes and concentrating on his friend's image. Friend? Did thinking about someone with an incorrect title screw up the Apparating process? When Harry opened his eyes after the swooshing displacement of air around himself, he looked upon the edge of a small market square. Draco grimaced as he watched Harry stagger to the side a bit before bending over, dry heaving over a patch of grass. "Are you quite finished?"

The heaving subsided, thank Merlin, and Harry straightened up to look at Draco, getting to his feet as he did so. "I'm alright," he said, seeing the look on Draco's face. Despite his rude and impatient words, he did seem to care, Harry thought. "This is Poland? It's not any colder," Harry said, looking up at the sky, wondering if it was going to dump some snow on him just for saying that.

"No, we're still in Germany. Berlin," Draco surmised, looking around, and started down the street. "I guess Hannover must have made me think of the rest of the country." Harry caught up with him and they walked down the dim street. All shops were closed on it, not providing much light other than from the street lamps lining the street every so often. "My father owns the branch of Gringotts here," he said, glancing sideways at Harry to make sure he was keeping up, or even listening. "The main branch in the center of the city is Muggle-owned, but this is a secondary, run by a wizard; but my father owns the building and holds stock in the business."

If they needed any more money, which Draco doubted they did since he'd had enough to cover the trip in his room at Hogwarts and had taken most all of it with him in his bag, they could have gone there, but then he would definitely be recognized. It didn't matter if he was a regular visitor, but he was the spitting image of his father, and it would be obvious who he was if he faced someone who his father knew so well, even if it was on business terms.

"I thought all Gringotts belonged to the goblins?"

"Most people do, but they had to get financing in the first place, didn't they? When they started up, it came from old money from the old wizarding families, of which the Malfoys would be considered. Germany is a very old country for wizarding folk, probably second to Britain." There had to be a place to stay at around here somewhere, because Draco didn't remember venturing too far from where they stayed while he and his father went on this trip years ago.

Harry nodded as he listened, also keeping an eye out for even a pub to stay at, of which he caught sight of one up ahead. They continued towards it, and Draco kept talking. Harry was glad he'd seemingly broken through the ice and maybe get them talking. If he was carrying the blond's child, he at least wanted to say he'd had a conversation with the man. And, if he had to defend Draco's character to Ron and Hermione when they got back and convince them that he was an okay guy, then it would help if he knew something about the Slytherin himself.

"I think there're Malfoys still left in Germany; not in that manor that I mentioned before, but I know we have less well-to-do relatives, probably even in Berlin somewhere." They reached the pub, and peered in the grimy window as they walked past it to the door. There almost didn't look like many wizarding folk inside, but it was definitely open to magical folk, as there were wands shown, personal spells cast, broomsticks to be seen. Pushing open the front door, there weren't many looks tossed their way, but the few of them who did look squinted at their raised hoods.

Harry followed closely behind Draco as the blond walked up to the bar and hailed the barkeep over. The burly man nodded his acknowledgement at Draco and looked curiously at them, and then Harry almost gasped under his hood as he heard Draco speak. "Haben Sie Räume für die Nacht?"

"Selbstverständlich. Zwei Betten," the man spoke, and leaned his weight on his right foot to look beyond Draco at Harry before he continued, "oder nur eins?" Draco looked straight back at the man, and almost wanted to flip his hood down to glare properly at the man. His stark blond hair usually did make people take him seriously, since they obviously knew it was natural, and male Veela were definitely a scary thing to come into contact with. No doubt the man had seen slivers of hair that hung down into his face, and combined with his eyes, which were, indeed a rare color, but common with Veela.

"Nein, gerade eins," Draco said, and it really sounded a bit angry to Harry, and he wondered if the man had insinuated something rude about them. He was obviously a man, and so was Draco. What if that really wasn't accepted around here? It was a pretty normal thing in England, even in the wizarding communities, but he had no idea about another community, wizarding or not.

"Gut," the man said, nodding at Draco, and maybe he did say something rude, since the man did look a bit taken aback by the tone of Draco's voice as well. "Ist das fein." He turned around and reached up to a rack of keys with room numbers. "Raum vierzehn," he said, and even Harry caught on to that, with the help of the number fourteen printed on the tag attached to the key ring, and the man handed the key to Draco and then gestured to the stairs on the other side of the room.

Draco turned and looked pointedly at Harry, hoping he didn't say anything before they got onto the staircase, at least. Even then, Harry didn't say anything on the stairs, and waited until they were inside the room. Draco made his way straight to the bed after unlocking and relocking the door, and securing it with a Locking Charm as well. When he turned around, Harry was just slipping into the toilet, but didn't shut the door tight behind himself. He hadn't bothered with a Translation Spell when he heard the language spoken, not wanting to embarrass them or anything. "What did you say to him?"

"Oh, how domestic," Draco mumbled to himself as he glanced at the door again, setting the bag down beside the bed, and started the fire in the fireplace with a flick of his wand. "Inquired for a room, he asked how many beds, I said one, he said alright," he recounted. "I swear he thought I was part Veela, the way he was watching my hair and eyes; he couldn't even look straight in them."

"Are you?" Harry asked a bit warily as he came out from the bathroom. It wouldn't be such a big leap to believe something like that, since the physical features matched. He started to take his robes off, and tossed them over the back of a chair in front of the fireplace. Draco stood in front of the fire and had taken off his robes as well, and Harry could see the light from the fire flashing over the blond, coloring him with streaks of pale red and orange.

Draco crossed his arms and looked towards Harry, whose eyes were wide looking back at him. He let a small smirk come to his lips, and watched as Harry squirmed. "Yes," he said, and watched as Harry's jaw went slack as he stared back at him. Draco moved to sit on the bed, rested his elbows on his knees, and looked over to the other boy. "Only a very small amount from my father's side. About one twenty-fourth, which is barely enough to give me anything other than skin and hair color."

Harry nodded, mouth still open slightly. He would have considered it a bit sexy if Draco were a larger part Veela, but he was still attractive otherwise, still due to the light tones. Standing from the chair, finding it a bit too hot near the blazing fire, Harry walked around to the other side of the bed. It was bigger than the last, which was better for stretching out a bit more and not worrying about elbowing Draco in the face. They were almost the same height, Draco a bit taller, and even though Draco seemed to stay in pretty much the same spot during the night, Harry knew he didn't, and he didn't want to think of how many times he'd probably woken the other boy up.

He also noticed that Draco always took the side away from the door leading into the room. Harry didn't mind, but he thought it was a peculiar habit. If he thought about it, it did make sense not to want to be the last one to the door in case of an emergency, but Harry thought of it the other way: he didn't want to be the first one someone got to when they came through the door. That wasn't really a great philosophy to subject your lover to, but it didn't really matter unless someone were after _them_ , did it?

Draco had sat higher on the bed, leaning back against the headboard. He wasn't tired yet, but it felt good to sit there, the fire slowly warming the cool room. He'd have to take his shoes off in a moment, most likely followed by his shirt, and maybe even his trousers, since he was tired of sleeping in them. "What about your mum, is she Veela?" Harry asked, trying to keep the conversation going. It went well before, without nasty looks, or angry words, so it might be a good idea to try it again. Harry started taking his shoes off, and as Draco watched, his socks. _Thank the lord_ , Draco thought, watching Harry toss down the balls of fabric.

"Mum's not, but I don't know about her ancestry. Obviously the male line is diluted, thus proving there to only be such weak Veela blood as in me and any relatives that are directly in my father's line." Draco shifted some when Harry climbed on the bed, but lifted the covers over top of himself. He'd kept his trousers on, so maybe Draco should, too. He had no idea if Harry wanted to do anything, but he wasn't going to press. "If there are any other than me, they'd be in France. That's where most of our family is.

"My great-grandfather moved to England, claiming it was more dignified than France, but there aren't really a lot of them left there. With such an old pureblood family, they haven't had much of a chance to branch off too much. I think there's even a manor that belongs to my family somewhere in Germany. Father took me there once, but we never went inside. It looked almost the same as our manor in England, except it was in disuse."

Draco knew that Germany had a rather Dark past, and he knew where some of his relatives here had ended up. It had mostly been before the Muggle wars, according to the Malfoy family history books, of which Draco hadn't flipped through in years. They either died in battles, or moved farther east or to England. Draco told Harry more of what he could remember of his relatives, and he hardly noticed when he'd slumped lower to lie down on the bed on his side, propped on an elbow, and facing Harry. "Do you remember your parents?" Draco asked, bringing his other hand up to look at his nails. He didn't really want to bring it up, but if he was talking about his father, he wanted to at least branch the conversation off. They'd definitely need a good cleaning when they got back to Hogwarts, his nails.

Harry tensed. He was lying on his back, hands behind his head, and was about to turn his head to look at the blond, but that was before he asked the last question. Harry pulled his hands down, and rested them on his chest, his elbow pressing against Draco's chest faintly. "Not really," he admitted. No one had really asked him that, and he didn't feel that bad saying it, though it still reminded him of what he'd never had. "I remember the feelings, though, of being safe, and loved. If I didn't have pictures of them, I wouldn't even know what they looked like."

"I miss my father sometimes," Draco said quietly after a moment. He didn't mean to bring up bad memories, but if they wanted to get to know each other, which is what he assumed the conversation was for, they might as well get the family stuff over to begin with. "I'd go see him, but visitors aren't allowed inside the prison. I guess they reckon someone might try to release prisoners from inside, considering what happened with Barty Crouch. I write him sometimes, but he doesn't write back. I know he sends letters to my mother, but she doesn't read them to me."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered. He knew Draco could hear him, and he also had no idea how well Draco would receive an apology for something like that. Harry was a bit glad the topic of his parents had switched over to Draco's own. He supposed he didn't mind answering the question, but he'd rather hear what Draco had to say. Everyone knew about Harry's parents, about his whole life story, but he doubted more than two people knew about Draco's life. If he'd tell him, Harry would gladly listen.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Draco said, and then almost as a whisper he continued with, "He loves me in his own way." He cleared his throat softly, and shifted his weight off his arm, lying sideways on the bed. Draco barely ever slept on his side, or even lay in the position, but it seemed better to speak to Harry this way, more intimate, he thought. "Mum says he asks about me, but he still won't write back to me himself."

Harry wasn't sure what to say, so he stayed silent. He didn't particularly care for the elder Malfoy in the slightest, and he was sure that point wasn't lost on Draco, but at least it was reassuring to know that Lucius cared for his son. Draco felt a bit bad to be speaking about his father so much, when Harry had lost almost two of them. "I'm sorry you lost your godfather."

Harry's head snapped to look at the blond, and he supposed he shouldn't really have been surprised Draco knew about it. It wasn't Draco's fault he had lost Sirius, but if it wasn't for his father and the other Death Eaters, Sirius would still be alive. "I don't want to talk about it," Harry said, holding back some of the anger that suddenly rushed to the surface. "I don't know much about my family's past, just what Sirius told me bef -- and what Remus talks about," Harry said shortly. Draco watched the Gryffindor close off, knowing Harry wanted him to just shut up now, and wondered if he'd hit him if he didn't stop dredging up painful memories.

Draco nodded, rustling the pillow under his head, and Harry's eyes looked a little less enraged as Draco looked back into them. "He was related to my mother." What, did he not know when to stop? He didn't want to not say it though, since he had no idea if Harry knew. If he barely knew his biological family, did he know anything much about the last, though now late, remnants of his parents' life?

"I know," Harry replied, not as tightly as before, but it was still obvious he wasn't comfortable talking about this, really wanting the conversation about Sirius to stop. "He showed me his family tapestry once. You're - were - his cousin."

"Yeah," Draco breathed, and lay there silent for a moment. He couldn't keep on with talking about Harry's family, since it was so blatantly painful for the other boy. He wondered if Harry had started thinking about his own baby as 'family' yet. That wasn't the main thing though, because what about the baby's father? Would Harry ever want to consider Draco family? He doubted it would go as far as calling him a husband, or any type of marriage like that sort, but he had to say they'd passed from friends and lovers to something a bit more. Or, if they hadn't passed lovers yet, they were starting to get there, and both making an effort. That thought alone made Draco tired. Slowly getting up from the bed, Draco pulled back the covers on his own side, and joined Harry underneath them. "I'm going to sleep," Draco said, quite knowing he was stating the obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment as a yawn followed his words.

Glad the conversation was put to rest, so to speak, at least for the time being, Harry agreed. "I'm completely knackered," he said, and with that, he sat up and tugged his shirt off and tossed it to the floor beside the bed. He lay down and pulled the sheets back up over his shoulder, getting comfortable. Draco moved over some so Harry had a bit more room to situate himself. Even though Harry was still a bit riled up emotionally at the mention of his godfather, he moved closer to Draco. Draco almost raised an eyebrow at the movement; Harry following him after he'd moved to give the other boy more room. Draco's arm had already been under the pillow, having become a habit from the past couple nights, and Harry took advantage of that, shifting closer to the blond's body.

It wasn't cold in the room, so it wasn't out of a need to keep warm, sharing body heat and all that. Harry just liked sleeping next to someone, and Draco was starting to realize that fact. Harry didn't quite feel right lying all over Draco, and he was pretty sure Draco wasn't so keen about it either, but he pressed as close as he could to the taller boy. Draco did what seemed to feel almost normal, and he pulled his hand out and lifted it to settle around Harry's shoulders again. It didn't take too long before Harry fell asleep, but it was to an uncomfortable silence. Draco wasn't uncomfortable being near Harry, but he couldn't help wondering if anything would turn horribly wrong on this silly journey of theirs.

Besides the obvious dangers that lie ahead for both of them, Draco had a lot to think about. He hadn't actually thought of the word 'father' being applied to himself, and despite the entire conversation about his own, and even Harry's, it'd taken him this long to realize what his brain was getting at. He was going to become a father. He couldn't stop that from marqueeing across his thoughts, and he had no idea how he really felt about it either. Maybe the uncomfortable silence was only in his head, since that's the only thing that felt awkward right now. Sleep finally over took the blond's mind, but not before he managed to wonder what was going to happen when they finally made it to Durmstrang; he just hoped they met up with Snape, and were able to leave unscathed. There was something that wouldn't sit right with Draco, and he knew it had to do with Harry. He knew he'd leave Durmstrang in one piece, due to his father's influence as a Death Eater, but he had some rather large doubts about Harry; it definitely didn't sit right with him.

@>*~

The food there wasn't the most exquisite, but it didn't seem to be coming back up. Lucius picked up his wand from beside his knife, and waved it at the dishes. They disappeared, and then the man leaned back in his chair, picking up his wine glass as he did so. He swirled the contents slightly before taking a sip, and looked across the table to Lord Voldemort. The Dark Lord stared back at Lucius before picking up his own glass, his plates already dismissed. His appearance had come a long way over almost four years, and he more resembled his looks from many years past. Though with strands of grey streaked through his dark hair, his eyes retaining flecks of red, Voldemort could still command fear throughout his followers.

The scar across his cheek had faded, but it was beyond the time it could have been fixed with a simple spell. He'd lost some weight, but that did not matter. As long as he had control of his followers and things were going as planned, he was pleased. Glancing over to his right, he saw Peter setting up the chessboard for another round with Lucius. In all actuality, he knew Lucius hated playing against the other man, but there was not much else to do in this castle. The day he'd arrived, Voldemort had kept his robes on, and observed the classes in the school. He didn't quite approve of the methods that were being taught, but he supposed it was due to the fact that these weren't actually all Dark wizards; they were simply being taught to fight dirty.

He couldn't single out potential Death Eaters from two-thirds of these groups. Slytherin still had a much better turnout rate, though it was certainly because of their parents' loyalties. Hogwarts was a good school, and being stupid and knowing how to use the Dark Arts didn't provide as much knowledge to a student schooled in all aspects of wizardry. At least the Castle of Durmstrang was an apt location to settle in for the time being, warded beyond belief, even more so than Hogwarts, and much less people who knew where it was found. Lucius had stood up from his seat, and moved to the side table to begin a game with Peter. Voldemort had never much liked playing the game, but did enjoy watching.

It gave him time to think, and something to focus his eyes on, the restless little pieces as the players contemplated their moves. Standing up himself, Voldemort crossed to the table, hands clasped behind his back as he walked, and came to stand between his most faithful servants, in front of the chessboard. Peter had moved first, and was eager to see if he could learn anything from this round, perhaps. The man was still just as much of a sniveling fool of a coward as the day he'd betrayed Potter's parents, but Voldemort didn't care about that, as long as Peter remained loyal to him.

Voldemort was about to sit down on the third chair at the smaller table when there came a knock at the door. Narrowing his eyes on the wooden barrier, he gestured for Lucius to answer it. His servants had looked to him as soon as the sound interrupted them, and neither of them seemed to be expecting anything. Voldemort continued, taking his seat, and leaning back comfortably as Lucius opened the door. Two of his Death Eaters stood there, wearing heavy robes, and they immediately flipped their hoods down from their faces. "What?" Lucius snapped at them, seeming to know what they would have to say.

The Dark Lord inclined his head, touching his fingertips to his chin, elbow propped on the armrest as he raised an expectant eyebrow at the two men. They had looked to him, instead of Lucius, who had addressed them, but they quickly looked back to the blond. "Sir, your son was not found at Hogsmeade," the first said, and Voldemort had no idea what his name was and couldn't be bothered to exert his power to find out at the moment, opting for simply watching the interaction.

"What do you mean he was not found?" Lucius sneered, obviously not pleased with that information. He stood from his seat to his full height, and stepped towards the men, who had taken a step inside the room, and Lucius slammed the door shut with his wand. "Are you trying to tell me, Nott," Lucius began, "that he stayed behind at Hogwarts for the weekend?"

"No," said Nott, and he refused to look away from the slowly-becoming-irate man in front of him. "We asked, and he wasn't at school, either."

"You asked?" Lucius asked calmly, almost sounding amused, and Nott nodded in response. He inhaled slowly and crossed his arms over his chest, before pursing his lips. "Who did you ask?" he questioned, trying a cruel smile on his lips now, and it clearly worked wonders as the men both stuttered before they could come up with their answer. He raised an eyebrow at the two of them, and when they fell silent, he tersely prompted, "Well?"

"Blaise Zabini."

"Ah," Lucius said, turning his back to the men, who visibly relaxed, before their eyes fell upon the other occupants of the room, or more precisely, one in particular. Voldemort had a contemplative look on his face as he watched them, and Lucius returned to his seat. "Leave!" he snapped at them again, and they wasted no time at all to fling the door open and dart outside, closing it gently behind themselves. Turning to the dark-haired man to his left, Lucius spoke. "My Lord, would you summon Snape?" Voldemort's eyes drifted to meet Lucius', and he nodded slowly, already doing what he requested.

"Zabini wouldn't lie," Lucius began, after he'd moved a pawn across the board, "and neither would his son. With his father in your employ, he wouldn't take any chances." Voldemort looked away from Lucius, and back at the board as the pawn moved and then sliced its small sword through one of Peter's bishops. Then he looked to Peter, who had his entire face contorted as he grew more and more frustrated by the second.

Severus, in his room, suddenly felt his arm burn, and he clamped his other hand down over top of the Dark Mark.The Potions professor cursed to himself, and stalked to his door, grasping the handle and swinging it open. He closed his eyes as he walked through the halls, knowing it would get him there faster. He was deathly aware that there were no other footsteps around him, no others being summoned. It wasn't all that uncommon for him to be called to a private meeting, usually to be enlisted for making a potion for something or other. This didn't feel like those times, and he couldn't help but feel tense as he walked through the halls. He came to stop at a large door, somewhere half a floor below his own, knocked on it three times, then stood and waited.

The door swung open and he definitely knew even before it was fully open, just who was in the room. Snape saw Lucius looking back at him amiably, and he gestured him into the room. He shut the door himself and walked towards the table the three men sat at. Wormtail looked up at him briefly, and averted his eyes back to the board. Voldemort nodded almost imperceptively, but Snape knew, and he inclined his head to the Dark Lord.

"How is my son, Severus? Is he doing well at school?" Lucius asked, as soon as Snape had made it five steps into the room. Before he'd reached the room, Voldemort had created a fourth chair, and placed it exactly opposite of his own, looking over the chessboard. Snape sat down in the seat and looked over the board and the moves already made before answering.

"I know nothing of his other classes except Transfiguration," Severus answered curtly, "but I can assure you he excels in Potions."

"Well," Lucius began, "that is good to hear." He picked up one of his knights, and set it down half on the same large square as one of Peter's pawns. The black knight swung its mace up, and it fell down hard over top of the small pawn, knocking its body in half, crumbling onto the board. Peter swore and pushed the ruined piece off the board, and Lucius' knight took the place for itself. "The problem is, Severus, no one seems to know where the boy is."

Lucius turned to look at Severus, and Snape was excruciatingly aware that Voldemort was staring at him as well. At least he'd solidified his position as a trusted Death Eater, when, last summer, he'd participated in an attack on some Aurors, and he had actually killed two of them. To say the least, it had made him look good to the Dark Lord, and he really didn't want to jeopardize that now, despite the fact that he'd rather not be within a thousand meters of the man. "Is he not at school?" Severus asked, forcing himself not to look at the Dark Lord, knowing full well that Lucius had implied that, and he shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes intently on Snape's. Not to mention that Snape knew otherwise before even being called to Voldemort's chambers. "I had no idea," he lied, making himself sound concerned for the other man's son, which he really was. "Has he gone home to his mother? It might be advised to send an owl to Narcissa before reaching improper conclusions."

Lucius stared at him, temporarily forgetting the game he was winning. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, turning back to the chess game, and watching as Peter moved his queen. He'd spared the rat's piece, only for the entertainment of watching his face when he believed to be getting somewhere in the game, other than losing.

"Would it be better for Severus to write the letter?" Voldemort asked, and Snape looked at the man. He definitely was easier on the eyes than he was last time he'd been in his presence, and he wondered if it was due to some kind of potion, or more Dark Arts at work. He felt a slight bit of resentment at the thought of it being a potion, and Severus hadn't been called to prepare it; perhaps it had to be brewed at one's own hand. Voldemort wasn't looking at Lucius as he spoke, but rather at Severus, boring into his eyes, and Snape knew what he was doing, staring right back. "After all, you shouldn't upset a beauty like that; she doesn't even know you're outside of Azkaban, Lucius."

Voldemort grinned at the blond, and Lucius looked back at him questioningly, but the dark-haired wizard simply looked amused at something or other. "Perhaps," Lucius mused, using his wand to Summon a piece of parchment for Snape to write on, which appeared in the professor's hand, and then the chessboard disappeared, leaving the table clear for Snape to work on.

"Shit," Peter said, the first thing Snape had heard him say the entire time he was in the room. He looked up curiously at the pudgy man, and Peter looked back angrily, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair. Snape picked up a quill from the desk that had also been created, and he could just imagine Pettigrew looking quite pissed off at Lucius for stopping the game, when he was just so close to getting better. Voldemort looked vaguely disgusted at Peter's character at the moment, but then he directed his attention to Snape, who had begun writing on the parchment.

'Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy,

I am writing to inform you, on behalf of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft  
and Wizardry, that your son, Draco Malfoy, has been absent from school  
since the weekend, Saturday, the 12th of November. It is advisable to send  
a letter to the Headmaster, inquiring for any further information regarding  
your son's location. Be assured he is safe, merely absent. I will contact you  
again if I hear word from Draco.

Severus Snape.'

Snape sat straight in his chair, and set the quill down. It was clearly for Narcissa to assume that Snape himself was not even at the school, thus providing her with the knowledge that he was somewhere during a school week. One might even assume that Draco was trying to follow him, though if Snape didn't know better, that's certainly what he would have thought, but only Merlin knew why. "My Lord," Snape began, before either of the other men had a chance to say anything more, "could I ask, why the delay when you summoned us?"

"It was most unfortunate to keep you waiting, though my assistance was needed elsewhere," Voldemort said, his voice low, and he made a gesture to the men on either side of him, Lucius and Peter. He considered elaborating, if he should tell Severus any more or not, knowing he still had the potential to turn around and whisper it into that old fool's ear. Though, his display of loyalty at the last attack warranted him to regard the man with a renewed respect. When Voldemort addressed them the other night, he hadn't provided any information, and if nothing else, he knew Severus was a curious one. "After I heard of Lucius' incarceration, I saw fit to persuade the Dementors back into the fold.

"They now obey my command, and Azkaban has now been transformed into my own high security prison, without any Ministry officials the wiser," Voldemort continued. Snape wanted to gape at that information, knowing that the wards were now the equivalent to Muggle revolving doors for any of the Dark Lord's followers, and he would go as far as to assume a special little kiss was reserved for anyone that was caught in the clutches of the Dark Lord, who had been ever so unfortunate to have defied him in the past. "I had sent Peter to relieve Lucius of his bonds, to bring him here, but he... failed," Voldemort finished, casting an appraising look at Peter, who uncrossed his arms and looked a bit ashamed of himself.

As Voldemort spoke, Severus knew he was only taking things at face value for the moment, but if there was any unease showing on his features, which he wasn't so sure of at the time, the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to delve further, to seek out the reason for the insecurity. That would not be a good thing, and Snape knew that very well. It seemed the man was finished speaking, and they fell into silence; Lucius inspected his nails and Peter shifted in his chair, wondering if he should say something or not. Voldemort kept his eyes on Snape, who had dropped his eyes to read over the letter he'd written, yet making sure to keep his mind as blank as he could, to relax himself.

Voldemort then looked to Lucius, wishing he could tell the man that his son was, at this very moment, with none other than Harry Potter himself. _Now_ , he thought to himself, _how did this fit together?_ The son of his most loyal follower was going beyond his duty, and that of most of the Death Eaters already in his ranks, and was leading Harry right to him. Or, could he be coming for an ulterior reason? Draco would most assuredly be welcome to Peter's position in the Dark Lord's inner circle, since he was already starting to prove his worth, being a good little Death Eater and bringing Potter to him, and in a weakened state, no less.

Oh, yes, he'd seen as much in Severus' mind, despite the twists and turns to find the information. All he wasn't sure of, though, is how precisely the boy was weakened. The silence was beginning to bore Severus, and he was sure he had no more reason to be in the room with the Dark Lord, his right hand, or his lap dog. "Shall I send the letter?" he asked, picking the parchment up from the table. It was dry by now, and was in no danger of smearing if it was rolled up.

"Very well," Lucius said, distracted now by the new game, and not even bothering to look at Snape, or wave him out of the room. Snape couldn't fathom why a man such as Lucius Malfoy would play chess with such an incompetent as Pettigrew, but what else was he to do in a place like this? Even Snape had grown tired of drinking, and he certainly wasn't going to let his guard down due to alcohol now that Voldemort had already searched his mind. He knew the Dark Lord had found something, but hopefully Snape still had a few plausible excuses up his sleeve, which he hoped to perfect as he made his way to the owlery. He'd write a short letter to Lupin while there, and send it with the same owl, so it wouldn't be so obvious.

@>*~

The sun was just beginning to set, and it cast its last rays through the small open slit in the curtains and let them stream across the room. Draco thought he would have been the first to wake, but when he sat up in the bed, he found the other side empty. He was about to get up and search the room for the other boy, and if need be, he'd go through the entire hotel, but that was before he heard the lavatory door open. Harry walked out into the main room, feeling a whole lot better than he had thirty minutes ago. He felt marvelously clean now, and he made the decision to bathe as much as possible, if he had the time. It wasn't that he was dirty, even if all they'd been doing was Apparating, but the hot water really helped to soothe his sore muscles.

Harry looked to the bed when he came out of the smaller room, and saw Draco sitting up, then smiled at the blond. Draco watched him for a moment before leaning down a bit to rest his arms on his knees. He thought perhaps he should have just been listening more carefully and he'd have known where Harry was, instead of overreacting before he knew anything. The blond lifted his knees up and crossed his arms over top of them, legs still under the blanket. "We have some time, I think, before we leave. You hungry?" he asked, lowering his head onto his crossed wrists, and watched as Harry only nodded. "Fancy a bite to eat, then?" he chuckled softly.

Harry paused for a moment, thinking about whether that was a good idea, despite knowing he was a bit peckish. The thing was: should he get something to eat when he'd more than likely puke it up after Apparating? He had no idea how long it would be, if his stomach would have time to digest anything (not that it really mattered when it came to throwing up), but the decision was made for him when his stomach overruled any more debate on the matter, growling noisily. "Sure, but something light, yeah? I don't want it all coming back up."

Draco nodded before he stretched his legs out, standing to reach for his shirt. Since there was a pub downstairs in the same building, they wouldn't have too far to go, just down some stairs. Harry had patted his hair down again and then after he tugged his shirt over his head, he didn't bother doing it again. He'd put his trousers back on in the bathroom, not really wanting to be walking around in just a towel covering his bits. Not because he was shy, but rather because it just felt weird to do it around someone he'd slept with. Draco had his cloak on before Harry did and when the dark-haired boy was ready, Draco unlocked the door.

He didn't know how long it would be before he remembered their next exact destination, so it was a better idea to leave their things in the room, as they'd be back after their meal. After holding the door open for Harry to pass through, Draco shut and relocked the door with a spell behind them. Across the hall and down the stairs, and soon they were in the restaurant area of the pub, both hoping it had decent food. It was alright to eat a bag of crisps every once in a while, but if they had to do it all the time, neither of them would want to touch the things again. There were a lot less people in the room than there had been the day before, and Draco led the way through to one he deemed suitable, nodding to the waiter to make his way to their table after them.

The young man wasn't much older than either of them, probably only by a few years. Harry still hadn't bothered with a Translation Spell, but he could have sworn, as he frowned at the other two men, that the waiter was rather blatantly flirting with Draco. The blond either didn't notice or decided to ignore the strange man's advances. Harry wasn't quite sure whether he liked watching this display, or perhaps it was just the fact that Draco seemed not to try and stop the man. The waiter wrote something down on his pad, and Harry assumed it was something to drink, probably their version of butterbeer. He wasn't even sure if one could get the popular drink anywhere but in England, but he supposed there had to be something equivalent to it in other countries. "This place doesn't look too bad," Harry began after the waiter left, glancing around the place, and trying to ignore the quiet that began to hang between them before he spoke.

"It could be better, but it's not bad for a quick bite to eat," the blond replied. Draco wondered at their astounding conversational skills. Lately, it had seemed a bit strange to be talking to Harry about things as trivial as where they were eating. Not to mention that he'd called anyone crazy who might have suggested two years ago that he'd be sitting in a pub in Germany having a conversation with Harry Potter. Sure, they'd come a long way from fistfights and throwing petty hexes at each other in the school halls, but where exactly were they heading now?

The quiet returned, and Harry looked down at his hands, not quite ready to pick up the menu. "Did you notice the waiter was flirting with you?" he asked, looking up briefly to gauge Draco's reaction to his question. He wasn't sure why he'd asked, but he knew it might be a better idea to ask now instead of blurting it out later when it really had no relevance to anything at all.

"Did he?" the other boy asked, then pursed his lips for a moment, as if thinking about it before looking up to meet Harry's eyes with a slightly sarcastic look in his own. "I hadn't realized."

"Well, he was," Harry said when Draco picked up his menu the waiter had left there, clearly not giving it any more thought. Despite the comment, Harry knew the blond didn't really mean it. If he didn't think he knew better, though he was starting to mistrust his judgment, he would have thought Draco had chosen not to reciprocate the attention, for whatever reason; maybe they were getting closer, but maybe that was wishful thinking on Harry's part. The thing was, though, that he had no idea when he might have begun wishing for that.

Draco sighed quietly to himself before he folded the menu and set it back on the table, looking to Harry, who hadn't stopped staring at him. "Something you're trying to tell me, Potter?"

"No, just saying," Harry said passively, picking up his own menu, anything to keep from looking at the sudden frown on the other boy's face.

Draco hummed to himself, barely audible, and Harry never even looked up from his menu. It was true, he had noticed the waiter's excessive attention to him, and the way he kept looking at his lips, but he just wasn't interested. Even if he was, what could he do about it? Kick Harry out of their room and shag the man senseless, then pop his head into the hall and tell Harry he could come back in, and share the bed again to go to sleep? He didn't think that'd be a very good idea. Besides, since they'd first been intimate with each other, he hadn't gone out or shagged anyone else. A few of his usual acquaintances from before Harry had asked him why he wasn't supposedly interested in them anymore, but he'd just said he'd been tired and hadn't been in the mood. He knew, truthfully, he'd actually enjoyed his time with the brunet, but he wasn't sure he'd admit that to anyone else, at least not yet.

A few moments later, the waiter once again showed himself to their table to take their orders. Still not bothering with the translations, Harry left the ordering to Draco, since he'd expressed what he wanted before the man came back. Harry thought it would be easier to listen to gibberish in the background instead of trying to listen in to others' conversations if he could understand. He didn't favor being in pubs usually, and the time he'd spent in the Leaky Cauldron in his third year and various occasions since then had been almost more than enough. He wasn't a picky eater, and was generally open to anything new; the truth was, he never had a chance to be picky with the Dursleys, especially if they chose to starve him for a week, just for fun.

Harry tried not to look up to see the waiter again talking to Draco, for fear of seeing the man throwing himself at the blond. Harry gently bit his bottom lip inside his mouth, and kept his hands clasped under the table, hoping neither of them noticed his display of marvelous self-control. Still, in the back of his mind he wondered why it even bothered him, or why he was letting it get to him, since he and Draco weren't even dating, were they? The only substantial thing keeping them together right now was the baby he was carrying; oh, and the occasional shag, but that was more of a bonus.

Deciding to stop examining the dents in the table when he saw the waiter's legs walk away in the corner of his eye, Harry looked up to find Draco staring back at him. He didn't feel it was right to say anything, since he really wasn't sure if they even had a relationship to begin with. Harry wasn't sure what Draco would say either, and didn't want to make this anymore awkward or uncomfortable than it already was if Harry decided to give voice to his opinions. The rest of the meal was, unfortunately, spent in said uncomfortable silence, though mostly on Harry's side.

Draco had brightened when he'd remembered a spot in Poland, and they made plans for the rest of their day. They'd have to make their way back to their room to prepare and pack their things back into the bag. The blond had recalled a small park in the middle of a quaint little wizarding village and had briefly explained it to Harry, much to the dark-haired boy's surprise. Draco seemed almost enthusiastic, which was odd, but he supposed maybe it was better to be in a known wizarding village than in the middle of mixed company, such as they potentially were now. After finishing their meal, they collected their belongings from the room and returned their key to the clerk. Once outside the building, they started down an alleyway nearby to Apparate from. The horrible feeling crept up into his stomach at the thought of magically transporting himself somewhere again, and Harry was almost beginning to feel like maybe he should have just stayed at Hogwarts.

@>*~

When Harry appeared in the park, he fell to his knees with his arms immediately wrapping around his stomach, and after a few moments of sickness had washed over him, he gave thanks to whatever merciful gods that chose not to have him spill the contents of his stomach. Standing from the grass, Harry turned to face Draco, who looked about as relieved as he felt. He noticed, though, that the other boy's hood was up again, having not been for the rest of the day thus far. With this being a complete wizarding town, it wasn't exactly a wise thing to do to have their hoods down, so Harry pulled his up as well. There weren't many people around, and only a few turned their heads at the 'crack' when they Apparated to the small park.

Draco gestured for Harry to follow him and they began down the street. They were mainly in a housing area, but they soon found the way into the business section, and they couldn't help but look into the shop windows and their displays as they passed. They had some time to spend, and it wasn't too late in the day, so they might as well spend it looking in the stores. It was a larger and wider street than that of Diagon Alley, but it held just as many, and just as interesting stores to browse through. Both of them had decided it a good idea to visit the Quidditch supply store, and to check out the brooms there. Draco reminded him again of the games they were missing.

They did figure it out and it should most likely be Gryffindor playing in the next game, and Harry really wished he wasn't away from school, hoping his team would win without him. He didn't much care anymore about winning the games so much as playing, but it was a nice bonus to win something for your house. They wandered around a bit more on the street before they walked to the end of it, still in search of a place of lodging for them to stay in for the time being. They entered the inn, and walked up to the desk. The Translation Spell still enforced, Draco spoke fluidly to the man, but it wasn't German, it was different, and Harry assumed it was Polish.

The man handed over a key and gestured to the right, then behind them and to the left, giving directions for the room, and something else. Draco thanked and nodded at the man before he turned back to his companion. "Diner's through there," he said, pointing to where the man had, behind them to the left, "and the rooms are up there on the right. I'm going to take this up, then come back down and we'll check out the diner."

Harry just nodded at the blond and didn't feel the slight panic set in until the last of Draco's long cloak disappeared up the stairs. It left him alone in the lobby with the older man behind the desk. Harry turned in a bit of a circle, looking at the room, hoping Draco wouldn't take long. He turned and caught the employee looking at him, and Harry smiled at the man before he remembered he wouldn't be able to see it anyway since his hood was up. Belatedly, he nodded slowly, and hoped he didn't look too menacing, or anything. Then, Draco came back down the steps and joined Harry as they walked to the other hallway leading to the small restaurant.

Draco led the way, and Harry noticed that he'd left the bag in the room, probably the reason he went up to begin with before coming back down. "Are you hungry again? You ate more than I did before we left," Harry said, standing beside the blond as they came out of the hall. There weren't too many wizards and witches in the room, but enough to call it half full.

"I just want a drink mainly, but I could probably go for something small," Draco answered, crossing his arms and stepping nearer to a menu propped up on the counter of the bar. Harry joined him, looking at it as well, but his attention was drawn aside, to the container holding sweets of all kinds, and he felt his mouth begin to water. "You want that?" Draco asked, and Harry stopped staring and looked back to the other boy, nodding his head. Merlin, he felt like a child in a candy shop at that moment, but he tried to put it out of his mind.

He hoped Draco was just being nice, and not laughing at him for wanting cake. Harry did feel a bit bad for not being prepared for this trip. It was his fault they were where they were at the moment, so why should Draco be the one to pay for everything? As soon as they got back, Harry promised himself, he would definitely pay the other boy back, or get him a really, really expensive present. The only problem with that though, was that Harry really had no clue as to what Draco would want. Harry barely noticed a waitress cross from the other end of the bar and Draco began speaking to her.

He had to admit, sometimes he felt a bit intimidated by the blond, especially watching him pick up the menu from the counter and poke his finger at a particular picture of what Harry assumed he wanted. The witch looked a bit shy after Draco's frustrated words, since that was definitely how they sounded to Harry, and then she seemed to ask if there was anything else. Draco turned to look at him and asked, "Which one?"

Harry pointed to the one he specifically wanted, and as the witch made to write their selections down, they both missed her small grin at the two of them. They did look a bit funny to her, two cloaked men, pointing at cakes and getting frustrated over sandwiches. She read over the things the main one had ordered, and then he added one more thing before he agreed she had it correct. Nodding at him and saying it would be a few minutes, and she told them they could take a seat, that she'd find them and bring them their food when it was ready. Draco watched her go, and then he led Harry to one of the corners of the large room.

They were still visible from the counter, even if only by the top of their hoods, but it worked. "Where's my cake?" Harry couldn't help but ask. It wasn't as if it took a lot of preparation to nab it out of the display case, but maybe that was the reason; it could be display only and the real things were in the back. Draco reassured him of that exact thing, and that the waitress would bring it over when the rest of it was ready, which wouldn't be long.

"Besides, I don't think I could watch you eat without taking half of it for myself," Draco said as he gestured for Harry to sit down in the corner booth he'd selected. "Maybe I should have got some, too," he mused before he sat down as well. They usually sat opposite each other, and Harry had always noticed Draco looking behind his shoulder, so Harry opted to doing the same thing for the blond, assuming it was the reasoning for sitting face to face. Here, however, in the corner seat with the bench to the wall, Harry was surprised to have Draco slide in beside him, barely three inches between them because the Slytherin was sitting so close to him.

"You can have a bite of mine," Harry said, feeling all too awkward at this. If Draco were on the other side, Harry could at least see the blond's face, but now he couldn't unless he turned to his side, and that wasn't exactly pleasant on his neck. There was, of course, the whole thing about Draco sitting next to him. He knew very well that they slept in the same bed together, but this was different. Were they supposed to have an arm around the other's shoulder or waist? Or have a hand on the other's knee? Harry doubted that would happen, though not that he'd mind if it did, so he simply sat there with his hands to himself.

"Damn," Draco said after a minute. He'd leaned forward, his elbows on the table, watching ahead, and Harry had busied himself with folding a napkin into various shapes. "I know where we should be going, but I just can't get the right picture of it in my mind," he continued before Harry had the chance to ask. He sat back after he finished, and watched as the waitress came across the room towards them, weaving through a few tables until she came to them.

She set down three plates, two with sandwiches, and one with Harry's cake, and two bottles of butterbeer. Draco thanked her, and she smiled at them before going back to the bar, while the blond opened his bottle immediately and took a drink from it. He sighed heavily afterwards, and Harry grinned as he pulled one of the sandwiches towards himself, assuming one was his. Draco did the same, and they started into their meal. It was mostly spent in quiet, with Draco making inarticulately annoyed noises, presumably at his brain not cooperating with supplying the image he needed for them to proceed. Harry finished his sandwich before Draco did; he was apparently hungrier than he had thought, and started into his cake after a drink of his butterbeer. "Harry," he heard called softly, and he turned to look at the blond beside him, an eyebrow raised with curiosity, which he knew could be seen so closely between them when he saw Draco's head turned towards him, too.

"I really do want a bite of that," he said, and couldn't help but grin at the stupidity of it. No, he didn't want his own piece, he just wanted a bite. It was something that just looked so appealing, but he knew it would be absolutely too much sugar for him if he had more than one little piece of it. Harry laughed upon hearing the other boy, and he looked down at his plate. Draco was just in time to ask, because in a few bites, he'd have the entire thing finished.

"Okay," Harry said, still smiling, and he stuck his fork down into the cake and broke off a small piece, about the size of his thumb. He held it up slowly so as not to drop it, and started moving it towards Draco. The Slytherin seemed a bit surprised at this procedure, and looked at Harry ridiculously, but he opened his mouth before he got a fork to the face, if he'd been too slow to avoid having cake smeared on it. Harry slid the fork over Draco's bottom lip, and waited for the blond to close his mouth over the tines so Harry could pull it back.

He watched Draco's lips as he dragged them over the fork, catching the icing that was on it as well, and Draco almost started to laugh before pointedly averting his eyes to the wall beside Harry's head as he chewed the cake in his mouth. Harry chuckled at the other boy and his smile faded when Draco swallowed, then licked his lips, looking back at Harry again. Draco leaned forward a bit, his eyes on Harry's mouth before darting up to his eyes for a moment before Harry met him halfway, pressing their lips together in the middle. It was different to kiss while they both had a hood up, but it gave them an odd bit of privacy as it hid both of their faces still, and their mouths as Harry opened his to Draco's tongue slipping across his lips.

Harry could immediately taste more of the sweet icing and cake on Draco's tongue as he let his own slide against the blond's, and he made himself hold back a slight moan at the taste of it, melting in with Draco's unique taste. Draco teased Harry's tongue out of his mouth and into his own, and then pulled away completely, looking down at Harry's lips before closing in again, pressing against Harry, who opened freely this time, without hesitation. Harry, still holding the fork, had lowered his hand down to the table top, resting it there as he kept his head turned and his lips pressed against Draco's. He knew this had to stop before it got carried away, and since they were trying to keep a low profile, especially in wizarding areas, Harry retrieved his tongue, and gave one last kiss before pulling away with a slight sound of suction at their parting lips.

"That," the blond said softly when he pulled back, "was absolutely delicious." Draco licked his lips again, barely a hint of a smile on them as he looked Harry in the eye before turning away and picking up his butterbeer. Harry had slipped the fork right back into his mouth, licking the remaining icing off of it, and swearing he could still taste Draco on the metal. He was reminded of an incident in the Great Hall, involving pudding, Draco, and a particularly arousing spoon, and Harry was forced to finish his cake, trying not to think about it. He had no idea what Draco was thinking about this all now, but there really wasn't much they could do about it in the middle of the diner.

Aside from the odd and slightly off-putting weirdness of kissing someone while in the midst of eating, despite having actually swallowed the contents of their mouth, Harry definitely had to agree with Draco on that one, the kiss or the cake, whichever. Draco glared from under his hood at a pair of wizards at the table nearest them, and they turned back to their food themselves after shifting in their seats under the stranger's stare. Harry finished the last few mouthfuls of his own butterbeer before he was ready to go. Draco stood from the seat, allowing Harry to get out before they walked back up to the bar. Draco called the waitress over and then handed her some money for their meal. She smiled at Harry behind him, obviously having been watching them, too. He had the decency to duck his head slightly, and again missed the grin she gave Draco this time, and only felt Draco's hand on his lower back before he started towards the hall to go back to the lobby.

The man at the desk wasn't there as they passed through, and Draco led the way up the stairs to the room, number four, at which Harry had to grimace, recalling his aunt and uncle at the mention of the number. He knew that number would be his least favorite in the world for the rest of his life. Draco looked at him with a strange expression when he glared at the metal number attached to the outside of the door while holding it open for Harry to pass through, but he shook his head instead of asking. Harry saw their bag lying beside the bed on what was presumably going to be Draco's side, and then he took his cloak off, listening to Draco placing Locking Charms on the door as he looked around.

It was a cozy little room and, again, only one bed. Harry felt a bit tentative about doing anything more than kissing, but he also had no idea how to ask Draco nicely if they could just make out. Finally, after he'd went to the loo and came back to take his shoes off, followed by his sweater, which left a navy blue t-shirt underneath, Harry decided that he wasn't going to say anything or start anything unless Draco did first. Draco, however, had went straight into the toilet after Harry had came out, and after a few minutes later, heard a flush, and more running water from the sink.

Harry had already taken his glasses and pants off, his t-shirt, and was now working on his socks, one of which was already stuffed into its corresponding shoe. He missed the smirk Draco gave said socks when he'd come out from the smaller room, and began to remove his own clothing. Harry pulled back the covers and shivered at the cool touch of them against his skin. Draco climbed under beside him, and lay on his back as usual. Harry shifted up as close as he ever did, and was pleased to find Draco's arm already under the pillows, and Harry quickly laid his dark-haired head over top of it. Draco shifted his hip to the side towards Harry, and Harry could definitely feel the warmth as it came closer, just above his pelvis, not even an inch away now.

Draco did feel a little odd at the situation, and he wondered when he'd become so used to sleeping in the same bed as the other boy. It wasn't at all the worst thing that could happen, but he had to admit, if even just to himself at the moment, that it felt good. He was well aware of the slight distance kept between them when they got into the bed, just like the other nights, but he was a bit uncomfortable with Harry being even more close to him. He was attracted to the dark-haired boy, and as he stared up at the ceiling, he really did wonder at what was going to happen between them next. He wasn't really the type to think about the future of a relationship, but he supposed he was a bit forced to now, considering there was an innocent life involved.

He fell asleep before he could come to any conclusion on that, but strangely, he still continued his thoughts into the dream he found himself in. The room was changed, but it was still a room. The designs and fixtures on the ceiling were different, and he sat up in bed and stood, finding himself wearing a simple but expensive robe. He turned, looking back at the bed, but Harry wasn't there, and the blankets were an entirely different color and pattern. He looked up towards the large window in the room, and a figure was standing beside it, looking out through the gap in the curtains. A pale hand reached out from the cloak the man wore, and drew the curtain closed before turning slowly. He smiled indulgently at Draco, and then he realized it was his father; then the smile turned into something darker, a scowl, and Lucius began walking towards his son.

Draco backed away, his eyes going wide as his father began to advance on him, a cruel and disappointed look on his face as he drew his wand from his cane, and started holding it up towards Draco's chest. The back of his legs hit something soft, and he sat down gratefully, and then couldn't help but squeeze his eyes shut. Nothing happened. Opening them slowly, Draco stared back up at a more familiar ceiling, and then he remembered. As abruptly as it had clicked in his mind, Draco sat up in the bed, not paying attention to Harry having been lying on his shoulder, and subsequently being rolled over and his head dropped down onto the pillows at his sudden movement. "Shit," Harry mumbled to himself, still half asleep, and rather unhappy about being jostled awake by his pillow deciding to sit up in bed.

"Oh, sorry," Draco said, though with not much meaning behind the words, Harry noted. "Get up, though," he added, doing just that himself, and pulling his pants on from where they lay draped over the bag beside the bed. Harry groaned and rolled over the rest of the way, grabbing his glasses from the side table.

"What are you doing?" he managed to get out before a yawn broke into his words, and then he simply forgot the rest of what he was going to say. He sat up in the bed, knowing he needed to listen to the blond and do as he was, and get dressed himself. Harry pulled his t-shirt and sweater back on easily, and then stood up, and found himself seated back on the edge of the bed. Blinking his eyes to clear a bit of the fog in his tired mind and body, he tried again, and then pulled his pants on.

"I remembered where we're going, but we should go now before I lose it," Draco said distractedly as he pulled his shirt on and then bent down to quickly tie the laces on his boots. He was definitely ready before Harry, and Harry was sure he was about to lose it if he didn't slow down a bit. Harry didn't quite function well after being woken up in the middle of the night. Well, at least it was a good enough reason to wake him up, Harry thought as he pulled his socks on and stuffed his feet in his shoes before tying them just as quickly as Draco was.

Draco slung his cloak around himself, buttoning its clasp and then turning to Harry after he picked up their bag from beside the bed and hung it over his shoulder. Harry took a moment before he stood up, scratching at his messy hair and looked at Draco expectantly. Dawning soon came to the dark-haired boy's face as he completely woke up and realized what they were supposed to do: Apparate, while he was half asleep, no less. Harry began to shake his head, but, as Draco had been ready for this, wasn't prepared to give Harry much of a chance to whinge about it much. "Listen," he said, stepping close to Harry and sliding a hand around the other boy's neck. "I'll meet you there." Draco leaned forward to close the gap between them and opened his lips slightly to press them against Harry's, giving him a damp kiss on his lips before pulling away and smiling before he disappeared, leaving Harry with no choice but to follow.

@>*~

The classes on Monday had all brushed by carrying a strange feeling, making Ron wonder if he'd even been there. His mind had been elsewhere, and he couldn't keep it on his work. He knew it wasn't the fact that Harry was still gone, but it was more that his own life had changed now. He was still the same old Ron Weasley, except for the not so little thing to a seventeen-year-old boy that was losing his virginity. It made him feel a little odd that it was one of his best friends, but then again, he'd never really thought he'd have a girl for a best friend when he was younger, but he was proud to call Hermione that.

He looked across the Gryffindor table, watching Hermione take a bite out of her roast beef sandwich, eyes scanning the page laid out in front of her. As per usual, there was a heavy tome containing scads of useless information about some boring topic to which that page belonged, and Ron couldn't help but smile to himself. Ron looked down to his own plate, twirling his fork amongst the peas there as he let his mind wander back and relive that fateful night, and the two after that.

For a while, he'd had a bit of paranoia at Neville having known about what happened between him and Hermione. After the shy boy had sworn himself to secrecy though, the three (really, four) of them had began to grow a little closer. They'd always been friends with Neville, but there was never anything specific that they had in common, but now they had something to share. Ron still didn't want to know the slightest bit about Neville's love life. That was mainly due to his inane refusal to know anything about what the two boys did with each other, despite Hermione's skeptical looks to him, really wondering if it was simply because Zabini was in Slytherin House.

They'd all spent time in the library, a place where Ron and Hermione could hang out with the two boys, and it soon became more than just Hermione's niche. She did wonder why she'd never noticed the boys there together before, but it was most likely due to them having hidden, so as to keep their relationship a secret. They always parted ways friendly, Ron and Hermione leaving before Blaise and Neville to give them a bit of privacy.

After their first night together, Ron and Hermione had shared a few more intimate experiences with each other. They held hands most all of the time now as they walked through the castle halls, just enjoying spending time with each other. Of course, that had inadvertently led to the finding of a few crevices or alcoves to have a bit of a snog in before moving on. They'd come fairly close to flat-out sex in some of those corners, but managed to restrain themselves, and make their way back to the boys' dorm, and even in the Prefects' bathroom.

Ron could still feel the mark of a large lovebite on his collarbone from earlier, when he and Hermione had been fooling around against a wall in one of the many long-abandoned classrooms. He hadn't been too sure if he was being that good of a lover, but just judging by the sounds and praise that Hermione whispered (and sometimes quite louder than that) to him, he figured he must be doing something right after all. She wouldn't be humoring him, after all. She'd always had no problem telling him how things were, and he had no doubt she would ever keep quiet about him not doing something right. If knowing her for the past six and a half years had taught him anything, it was that.

Before lunch was over, Hermione had dragged him up to see Professor Lupin. It's not that he didn't want to go, but Ron was tired of hearing nothing new about the whereabouts of his best friend. Lupin couldn't tell them anything new, and neither of them were surprised. Their teacher looked frustrated and tired, and they soon left him to his papers and made their way back to Gryffindor Tower until afternoon classes began. Things had been the same since Friday when they'd last heard anything new about their friend, and Ron just wished he knew what prompted Harry to take off—with Malfoy, of all people, and to Durmstrang, of all places.

Ron sighed, knowing he wouldn't know until someone managed to speak with them, or when they returned. At least he hoped they returned, or maybe just Harry. Malfoy could stay, for all Ron cared. After their meal, the day continued on as it normally did. The remaining classes were straightforward, and then it was time for supper. It wasn't eventful either, aside from a Hufflepuff shooting milk out of their nose after a particularly funny joke, but even that wasn't enough to warrant a curious chuckle in their general direction at the laughter.

The Gryffindors headed back to their common room from the Great Hall. Most of them had homework to finish before the next morning, and there weren't a lot of games going on, as they all seemed to have an early morning. Ron held Hermione's hand as they stopped in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady. She smiled knowingly at them, nodded politely when Ron spoke the password, and swung open for them. They walked through the threshold of the painting, still hand in hand, and only let go when Ron needed to pick up his books to start working.

Hermione had completed most of her homework for the night during supper, so she made the short trek up to her dorm to grab some more yarn before starting a new sweater. She relaxed into her favorite chair, glancing over at Ron sitting at the nearest table, glaring down at his own work. She smiled and began unraveling some of the deep green-colored string and picked up her needles. It fell quiet in the common room, and most of the older students were still recovering from the weekend at Hogsmeade, as well as attempting to battle their homework assignments.

She had shook her head at them in the morning, most of them not even half awake when they got to breakfast, and she was sure someone had fallen asleep in their porridge. A lot of their year had turned eighteen during the last summer and had been legally allowed to drink things a bit stronger than butterbeer. Of course, that certainly didn't help control any aspects of contributing to the delinquency of minors, because half of them opted to buying a round or four for their younger classmates.

When she heard Ron sigh down into his book heavily, Hermione looked up from her knitting. She couldn't feel condescending about dropping out of Divination anymore, for one thing, because it simply didn't matter, but she couldn't even smile at him having problems after what he'd told her Professor Trelawney said. The old bug-eyed woman had been spouting off about Harry's time having finally come and that, oh, she had been right all along. Hermione had been outraged at that bit of news, however, but from what Ron had told her followed the teacher's outburst, she needn't run to defend her friend. The rest of the class, even including Trelawney's most devoted students, had angrily told her to, quite succinctly, keep her big, fat yap shut.

She knew Harry would be back, right as rain, and Trelawney didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Hermione knew it couldn't really be the homework that was bothering Ron, and she knew he was bothered. He didn't sigh the way he did over Divination, so she had to ask. "Something on your mind, Ron?"

Ron looked up, genuinely unaware that he'd sighed outloud it seemed, and he watched as she set her knitting down. He watched her walk towards him, and he stared at her as she scanned over his homework before he spoke. "Well," he started, "I've been thinking ... about us, I mean."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, suddenly feeling a frown on her face as she looked back at him. She hoped he wasn't having second thoughts about their relationship, but the way he had said it didn't leave her with a lot of secure feelings.

Ron nodded, looking down again to his work. "I don't mean us, precisely, but more about, uhm ..." he paused, taking a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts in order. It took him a moment for the right words to come together, or at least he hoped they were the right ones, because he had decided he couldn't back down from what he was about to say now that he'd started. "What I mean is, that this past weekend, you know, when we were together, we didn't use any protection," he finished, also deciding it was best to just get it over with.

He felt a blush warm his face to the very roots of his hair. He felt ashamed of himself for not thinking to use any at the time, but now that he'd had some time to replay things in his head, he realized that they hadn't exactly been careful. His mother would have his hide if she knew, so it was a good thing she didn't, he supposed. Hermione sighed to herself, overcome with relief. She almost shook her head, thinking, 'is that all?' For a moment, she had been afraid Ron would admit that he regretted their time together and wanted to just be friends again. She wasn't sure if she could have accepted that, but she was glad that wasn't the problem. "Oh, Ron, don't worry yourself sick about it."

"No?" he asked, suddenly feeling all the more worried and all the more like a big weight had been lifted at the same time.

"No," she repeated. "I took care of it before we even slept together. As you should know," she continued, though already knowing he would have forgotten this information, "the Contraceptive Spell lasts for an entire month each time it's used." She smiled back at his slightly dumbfounded look, almost beaming at the fact that he cared about it, to look out for her, and the both of them together.

Neither of them was ready to have children, still being in school, and even if they weren't, Hermione still had a career to consider first before she even thought of having kids. Aside from that, she didn't have to worry about Ron if it did happen, since she was sure Mrs. Weasley would have already beat sense enough into Ron about these issues, and would even make him 'do the right thing' by her. Hermione was sure she loved Ron with all her heart, but she wasn't ready to be tied down by children just yet.

Ron slowly started to look relieved, and she smiled at him again before leaning down towards him. She pressed a kiss to his lips, intending it to simply be a quick peck, but it turned into something deeper and wetter before they broke apart, both taking deep breaths. "Good night, Ron," she said to him, standing up and tugging her shirt straight as she headed for the stairs.

"Good night, Hermione," he replied, calling behind her. He smiled now, feeling so much better about things, but he was so tired, too. He looked back at his Divination homework, and sighed, this time clearly about the insanity that was theory on crystal balls. He left it where it was, since he didn't have to go back up to Trelawney's class until after lunch, so maybe he'd have time to finish it up before then. There were only a couple older students in the common room when Ron stood up and looked about, stretching his arms as he walked to the stairs himself.

@>*~


	8. Chapter 8

It was the middle of the night when Severus rolled over in his bed onto his back, absently scratching at his arm. He frowned in his sleep, unable to stop scratching, pulling at the skin. Suddenly, he stilled and his frown deepened before he even opened his eyes to see where he was scratching. It was his Dark Mark. He sighed, knowing he would never be able to get back to sleep, whether or not he had to go to a meeting now or if he was having an agitated dream about slicing a chunk of his skin off to rid himself of the poisoned tattoo. That would be no use, and he knew it; it was more than skin deep.

Flipping the covers off himself, Snape stood up from the bed and reached for his boots. There was no use in removing clothing to get into bed here; it'd be freezing cold, and, in times just as this, he could be called at any time of day, or night, as it were. It was dark in the room; he reached for his wand and after a muttered spell, he could now see to lace his boots. He didn't particularly need the light to do it, and he knew he was taking entirely too much time about this, since the mark on his arm kept burning, urging him to meet his master.

When he was ready, he gripped his wand in his hand as he left his room and made his way down the halls with only the light from the tip of his wand. Only one shifting wall before he found the room he was in search of, and he knocked on the door. It opened a moment later, and Severus stepped through. He wasn't surprised to see that, besides Lucius, he was the only Death Eater present, but he did have to wonder if the Dark Lord kept Lucius up twenty-four hours at his disposal, as the blond was sitting across from Voldemort, waiting for him as well. He looked smug, but a bit tired as he rose from his chair and inclined his head to look at Snape.

Voldemort raised a hand and gestured for Snape to come closer, and with a small flick of his wand, the door was shut and Severus had made his way across the room to stand before the Dark Lord. Voldemort stood slowly, and made a sweeping gesture with his eyes before they settled on Snape's own and stayed there. They were about the same height, Voldemort a slight bit taller, and he stood in front of Snape, silent for a moment before he began. "You did not wish to come here," Voldemort whispered to him, yet it was still loud enough for the other occupant of the room to hear.

Snape looked warily at the man, and raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "No, I was rather enjoying a game of chess with Macnair, or would have been if he didn't keep cheating." Voldemort stared back into his Potions master's eyes, and Snape forced himself not to flinch at the subtle invasion into his mind, searching his thoughts once again. He'd known Voldemort had gone looking earlier, but this time he was going towards something specific.

"Do not lie to me, Severus," he said, and Snape knew that he was calling his bluff; he'd seen something. "You did not want to leave Hogwarts," he whispered again, and then pushed further, and Snape could feel it in his mind, pulling thoughts forward that he'd rather have dribbled out his ear than let Voldemort see them. "But you had to," he continued, still pulling on the threads of thought.

"No, I didn't want to leave," Snape said, voice low and clearly starting to become angry. The more he stated things that were well known, the longer it would take to reach the thoughts that he wanted kept secret. "There are classes being held, and Aurors routinely search the school. Why would a teacher of a mandatory class leave unexpectedly for no clearly documented reason?" The edge of Voldemort's lip began to rise, forming a satisfied smirk. Snape was clearly not trying to rein in his frustration any longer, and for that, it would be his undoing, as Voldemort broke out into a full smile, albeit a cruel one.

Snape knew then that he'd left a clear trail in his mind to exactly where Voldemort wanted to be, and he cursed himself for it. "You cannot hide it, Severus; I know he's coming." Voldemort took a slow step forwards, making Snape step back, no matter how much he didn't want to. He stared back into the eyes of the Dark Lord, and he pushed as hard as he could to stop the other man from prying into his mind even further, his past thoughts, and his concerns for the boys. Voldemort closed his eyes, easing the mental contact between the two of them, but he still kept pushing forward.

He saw clips of what Severus was trying to hide, trying to repress and not leave a larger trail towards them in his mind, but he saw it regardless. He followed the twisting path of linked thoughts to what he sought. For whatever training and mastery of these skills Snape possessed, Voldemort was more powerful, beyond a doubt. Still with his eyes closed, Voldemort spoke with amusement in his deep tone, "You've led him to his death, Snape; aren't you proud of that?"

Snape didn't respond, but narrowed his eyes and tried to focus. Voldemort didn't know he was still betraying his purposes, and no matter how hard he tried to get rid of the information about Potter, he could at least try to hide his allegiance. For as deep as Voldemort had pressed, he was sure to know Potter was on his way straight to the castle; but how? He could sense the question being forced into his own mind, calling out to the answer like a beacon, wanting to coax the answer out.

Voldemort opened his eyes, and looked back at Snape. He knew he would see Draco, but would he be able to piece the two things together? While Lucius stood right behind him, wand at the ready, it wouldn't be too far of a leap, not any uncommon thought to have an image of the man's son go through his mind. To be honest, many of the Death Eaters had been caught staring hungrily after the young blond when in attendance at Lucius' home, and sometimes simply by looking at Lucius himself, and knowing all about his pretty son.

When Snape's back hit cold stone, he knew something was wrong. He knew he'd not managed to hide his thoughts, and the pressure was broken, and he felt the Dark Lord review all of his thoughts on the matter, retracing his steps to leave Snape's mind. Voldemort saw Draco clearly now, and his smile returned as his fingers closed around the front of Severus' throat, pressing and holding him against the wall in his strong grip. Snape opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd shut against the pain and intrusion and looked back at him with hisface now blank; he had nothing left to hide.

He was unprepared for a quick slap to the side of his face, and his automatic reaction was to bring his palm up to his cheek, clutching his hand over the lingering burning sensation the harsh contact had left. "Lord, please: I would never have kept it from you," he pleaded, knowing he would never let himself live it down. Snape promised himself many years ago he'd not do this again, and he'd rather cut his own throat out, even as he blatantly lied to the man before him. "I would have told you."

"When, Severus?" he asked, leaning his face in close to Snape's. "When?" He tightened the grip over the pale flesh under his fingers, and felt Snape's Adam's apple working behind as he swallowed. Voldemort knew he could never get another person inside of Hogwarts; not someone as trusted as this traitor before him, and he sneered. It had many times occurred to him that Severus worked as a double agent, but to whose side he truly belonged he was yet unsure of. Nothing of that was unheard of to him, and Snape was as much on Voldemort's side as he was on Dumbledore's, or was he?

He knew very well that Pettigrew would desert him and run back to that old fool if it looked like Voldemort was going to lose the war in the end. The question was, would Dumbledore accept his return, or would he kill the poor rat? It was logical to assume one would have to play the part, as Snape did so perfectly. Dumbledore would be much too smart to allow a known spy into his school without making some sort of deal, but the variable was Snape himself. He was the kind of man that would change his mind and not change it at all, and no one would know. Letting his eyes bore into Snape's, which still showed no fear, Voldemort narrowed his own. _Good_ , the Dark Lord thought as he pushed further, still holding Snape's neck against the wall. He stared at Severus, searching one more time for an answer to these most puzzling questions, and before he left the man's mind, he silently made his wishes clear.

The fingers released from over his neck, and Snape took a deep breath, involuntarily. The first thing that ran through his mind was that he was glad he sent a letter to Lupin, and he hoped to Merlin that Voldemort didn't turn around for another go. He looked away from the Dark Lord's still curious eyes, over his shoulder to Lucius, who stood, still ready to kill him at a moment's notice if his Lord so commanded him. He, too, had a satisfied smirk on his lips, though it looked like it was strained. The blond usually always had something to say, and if he was holding his tongue out of fear, which is how it looked to Snape, good. Voldemort would surely tell him of his son's involvement. If Snape was lucky, Voldemort believed Draco, not Snape, was now leading Harry Potter to his death. The only reason he wasn't inclined to think otherwise, was because Snape truly didn't know if that was what the boy was doing or not. There truly was such a thing as knowing too much, and in this case, knowing not enough was the only thing that could have saved the boy.

Voldemort turned from Snape and walked back to the chairs he and Lucius had been seated in before Snape arrived, and before anything else was said, Snape fled to the door and slammed it shut behind him, making his way back to his quarters. "I believe you're raising a fine boy, Lucius," Voldemort said as he sat down across from the blond, who'd taken his seat as well. Lucius nodded once slowly, and sheathed his wand back into the base of his cane. _Tomorrow_ , the Dark Lord thought, he'd take the necessary steps to ensure things went according to his new plans. Readying his followers for an attack on Aurors assigned to do Dumbledore's bidding was not his main concern, but perhaps he wouldn't even have to bother, if he had such a boy possessing this bold ingenuity now working for his purpose.

@>*~

Harry felt the floor under him again, and he opened his eyes slowly to what appeared to be the inside of a hotel room. He was a bit dizzy from the sudden Apparation, but when his eyes refocused, it was still a hotel room. Harry was about to ask, but he was overcome with another sudden urge to be sick. He almost didn't make it to the lavatory before his insides heaved, but at least he was past the threshold, if not actually into the toilet. Harry gasped a few times and used the back of his hand to wipe at his mouth. From the corner of his eye, he saw Draco walking towards him, waving his wand and saying something Harry couldn't hear, but in a second, the mess in front of him disappeared with a soft pfft sound.

Harry shifted and stood, giving a brief nod of thanks to Draco as his insides quivered from the abuse. He sighed, making his way into the bathroom and shutting the door behind himself. He rinsed his mouth of the foul taste left over from his vomit and looked at himself blearily in the mirror before going back out into the main bedroom. Draco had already sat down on the edge of the bed, frowning curiously to himself as he looked around. Harry joined him and did the same. He gestured to the room, curious himself as he asked, "What happened?"

"Not quite sure," Draco admitted. He stood from the bed and crossed to the window, pulling back a heavy curtain to reveal half of the moon in the mid-night sky. "We're not in Poland, at any rate," he said, looking back to Harry and gesturing him over. Harry went to the window and looked out himself, not seeing much, other than the normal buildings of any established settlement. He wondered if this was a wizarding town, but he supposed it didn't really matter much, anyway. "I'd say we're in Belarus; see that sign over there?"

Harry leaned in closer to the window, and felt his side brush against Draco's chest as he looked to where the blond was pointing. "Yeah, what about it?" he asked, still squinting slightly as he gazed at the strange letters, obviously another language. He straightened and watched Draco's amused glance at him before he moved from the window back to the bed. He must have looked like a five-year-old trying to read a big word for the first time, but he didn't care.

Harry yawned, following Draco back to the bed, though sitting on the other side, near where the bag had been set down. "What about it, is that we're within spitting distance of Russia. That makes us roughly halfway there." There was no point in stating where "there" was, because neither of them really wanted to hear it. Harry nodded, more to himself than to Draco, and he picked up the bag, settling it in his lap and opening it.

He knew some of his things were in here, but he had no idea what Draco had brought besides a pair of trousers. Draco leaned back on his elbows on the bed, staring absently around the room while Harry rummaged. "Why'd we end up inside of a hotel, instead of outside like the other times?" he asked as he pushed past the other boy's clothes. It was a bit odd, but he supposed it had been whatever Draco had been thinking about where to go next, so Harry shouldn't really complain.

"It was in the dream I was having," Draco said, his drawl a little more pronounced than usual since he was tired. "That's why we left so quickly; I didn't want to lose the memory and be stuck where we were for another few days." Harry nodded again. He'd had a vague idea that was the reason they'd suddenly needed to Apparate, but he hadn't been sure. For all he knew, Draco had been simply torturing him, making him concentrate like that while half asleep.

Harry's hand bumped something smooth and round, or more like tube-shaped, and he closed his fingers around it and pulled it out. It was a bottle of oil, and Harry held it up to read the label. "Olivia's Scented Sensual Oil?" he asked, turning his body to look at Draco, who frowned and grabbed the bottle from him, shoving it in his pocket. Harry grinned at the other boy's slightly embarrassed look, and then couldn't help but laugh a little.

"It's for my hands," Draco protested. "They get dry," he added, more mumbling now. Harry supposed he couldn't put it past him to carry something like that with him, especially considering all the cold, dry weather they spent their lives in at Hogwarts, and this little vacation wasn't much better in terms of climate. Harry stopped chuckling, and closed the bag again.

"So, what now?" Harry asked, leaning back on the bed himself after placing the bag back down beside it. "I mean, are we going to stay the night here? Someone could come in here any moment."

That thought hadn't escaped Draco, and he spared a moment to put more thought into it, and then suddenly got up from the bed and strode to a point in front of the door. He pulled his wand from his sleeve and Harry saw him purse his lips briefly before casting a spell on the door. With it sufficiently locked, Harry presumed, no one would barge into the room. Draco returned to the bed, and Harry glanced around the room some more. He was still very tired, but he wasn't sure if he could sleep if he tried. It'd even taken him a while to get used to sleeping in the dormitory at Hogwarts where many a person could come in the room at any time, whether they were supposed to or not. Now, even with the door magically locked, he couldn't help but think someone might still make their way inside and find the two of them.

They both sat silently for a minute, each lost in their own thoughts before the bed began to shift, and Harry turned to look at the blond. Draco had taken off his robe and dropped it to the floor, proof of how tired he was if he couldn't even fling it towards a chair, and was unbuttoning his shirt. Harry watched as inch by inch the pale skin of Draco's chest was revealed, and he barely realized he was staring until he looked up and saw Draco looking back at him, not quite amused, but Harry knew he wasn't disgusted by it, at least.

Harry turned away and sighed before standing from the bed and shrugging off his cloak himself and set it on their bag. It was only a moment before they were both down to their pants this time, and Draco pulled back the comforter and sheets, getting into bed and waiting for Harry to do the same. In the past few days they'd settled into a familiar position, and they both quickly assumed it. Harry pressed himself a bit deeper into Draco's side, though he was unsure if it was because he was worried someone might suddenly come in, or whether he simply wanted to be closer to the other boy.

Draco didn't seem to mind, and, in fact, Harry felt him move his body a bit closer to Harry's as well. They lay there silently for what seemed like an hour, though it must have only been fifteen minutes, and neither of them seemed able to fall asleep. Harry shifted his head, an odd sense of being watched coming over him, and he paused for a moment, ear away from the beating of Draco's chest for a moment so he could hear. Draco felt the movement, and passed it off as a normal shift of the dark-haired boy's head, but when Harry didn't put it back down, Draco turned his own, wondering why.

Harry tilted his head back to look at Draco after he felt the blond move, too, and he shook his head, indicating that he hadn't heard anything. Draco's lips parted as he nodded back, but his gaze was still on Harry, whose tongue slipped between his own lips to lick them. He didn't know what made him do it, but Draco slid down to be even with Harry and pressed his lips to the other boy's firmly. Harry opened his mouth under Draco's, feeling his tongue slide out to meet the blond's, barely consulting him first before it did so. Their tongues swirled around and along each other for a moment before Harry was surprised, eliciting a sound that conveyed so, and found himself turned onto his back, Draco bracing himself above him.

Draco looked down at Harry, flipping his head slightly to move a few stray hairs from in front of his eyes, and he had to shut them for a moment, though he instinctively leaned his head down to meet Harry's lips again. He'd been hit with a sense of déjà vu, and couldn't quite distinguish between reality and a dream. It took a moment for his body and mind to register this was real, but it was so much like his dream that he still had to wonder. He didn't want to remember the dream, especially his father, so he kissed Harry hard, trying to force a much better reality upon himself and to not let his mind wander.

Harry found his arms reaching around the other boy's back, and he quite enjoyed the slight moans into his mouth from the blond above him when he slid his hands up the smooth skin. One stopped, looped around Draco's shoulder, while the other continued up to tangle into the loose, blond hair. Harry hadn't really paid much attention to Draco's grooming habits since they'd embarked on the dangerous adventure they'd found themselves on, but it was obvious to him now that Draco had foregone his usual habit of slicking his hair back. Harry moaned himself when his fingers ran easily through the silvery, smooth, and shiny strands.

His mother had been the only one to ever play with his hair, and that was so long ago, Draco had forgotten how good it felt. It only made it better that it was in this position, and he shifted his knees lower to rub his growing erection against Harry's thigh. In the back of his mind, Harry realized what it was, but he didn't really catch on until his other hand, the one not on the back of Draco's head, was trailing down the side of the blond's body. He felt ribs sticking out as his hand passed, but he continued until his fingers hit the waistband of Draco's underwear. Whether he was being bold or just curious, it didn't matter, because Harry moved his hand further down over top of the material, and it soon came into contact with Draco's now full erection.

He started to stroke Draco's cock through his pants, smiling between Draco's kisses when the blond paused to breathe out heavily from his touches. "You'd better stop before I come in my pants," Draco whispered, his voice heavy with arousal, just as his cock was in Harry's palm. He pulled back farther from their kisses and that moved Harry's hand from Draco's groin, and it fell onto his own. Harry didn't want to stop touching Draco, but he knew the blond was right about it. If he kept on, that's what would happen.

Harry felt his own hard cock under his hand, and gave it a little squeeze, not being able to stop himself, and Draco smirked at him from above. He'd better stop that, too, or they'd both come and that would be the end of their night. He didn't want that to happen just yet, so he did stop and stared back into Draco's eyes, which he found to be dilated in the dull light to almost black instead of light blue or grey. Harry's were probably the same he realized, but he paused a moment, his mind working better after a moment of arbitrary comment. He had to consider the consequences of his next actions.

They could either continue the way they had been and simply rut together with each other until they got off, or they could go all the way. Even through the haze of lust that he found himself in, Harry couldn't forget the last time they'd gone that far, and it wasn't one of his better memories of the blond. He doubted Draco was too fond of it either, but Harry understood why it had happened. He could have held it against the blond for a long time to come, and perhaps he would, but right now, Harry believed he was ready to take the chance, and open himself up to the other boy once more.

Draco was looking down at him, a questioning look on his face, but Harry pulled him down slightly, cheek to cheek, and he whispered through blond hair to Draco's ear. "I want you," he said, pressing a soft kiss just in front of the ear before letting go. Draco felt a small shudder of delight run through him at the words, not even believing what was said, because he also remembered the last time they'd shagged, if it could even be called that. He didn't want to make any mistakes, but he supposed he'd already lessened one potential foible with already having permission.

He'd hated himself for what he'd done after the Quidditch match with Hufflepuff, and he squeezed his eyes tightly for a moment before pulling his head back to look down at the boy beneath him. "Are you sure?" he whispered back. He didn't want to make a mess of this, too, and he had still been horny from other parts of his dream. Not that he'd tell Harry that; it was embarrassing enough to have been caught in his dream, by his father, no less. Draco didn't want to push, even though he was expecting the look he received from the boy underneath.

Harry wasn't sure how difficult Draco was planning on being in the next few minutes, but he hoped they passed quick enough. He nodded his head, using his hand to pull Draco's head back down to press his lips against the blond's. He kissed firmly, trying to show he really did want it, but not hard enough to draw deeper emotions out of the other boy. Draco pulled back a few moments later, giving a small smile of apology in response to Harry's groan of displeasure at the contact being released.

Before Harry had time to voice said displeasure at having Draco's lips taken away from his own, his eyes widened slightly when the blond pulled away, but even more so when Draco moved his hands to the waist of his pants. He supposed he should have seen it coming, but Harry hadn't quite been thinking straight, and he was definitely too horny to do so now. He didn't know if Draco knew it, but he was putting a lot of trust in the blond right now. Draco hooked his fingers under the band, and Harry helped by lifting his hips slightly so that Draco could pull the pants off.

Harry shoved one foot out and was about to make more room for Draco to settle between his legs again, but the blond had gotten up swiftly to remove his own underwear. He was soon back on the bed though, and crawled half over Harry's body and leaned over the edge of the bed, to where his robe had been set, Harry remembered. Draco reached into the pocket and pulled out the oil Harry had so thoughtfully laughed at not too long ago, and he held the small bottle in front of Harry. The dark-haired boy grinned a bit sheepishly, obviously not having made the connection. Draco hadn't really, either, but he doubted he would ever miss it from now on.

Draco cocked an eyebrow as he leaned down, pressing his lips to Harry's still grinning mouth. He shifted his body to align better with Harry's, letting their erections meet before they both began to rock their hips against each other. Harry had opened his mouth to let Draco's tongue inside, moaning as he felt it swirl around his own, creating a few shudders of pent-up lust to be released. Harry hadn't realized Draco's hands weren't touching him until he felt a cool, wet fingertip slide a little way from behind his balls, down to his entrance. Draco heard Harry gasp when he pushed the finger inside, not quite slowly, but slow enough.

He stilled when Harry's body tightened around his digit, and was almost about to ask if this was still alright, if Harry was changing his mind. Harry pressed down on the finger, and Draco pulled it back, satisfied that Harry was sure about it, and added another finger. Draco added a third and stretched his fingers as wide as he could, twisting and turning them until the boy beneath him was whimpering with arousal and lust. When he felt he'd prepared the other boy as well as he could, he pulled his fingers out slowly, smirking at the throaty moan of displeasure Harry had let out at their removal.

Draco leaned back slightly to steady himself and picked up the bottle of oil from the side of the bed. He took the cap off quickly, gave himself a handful, and recapped and sent it off towards the floor. He heard it hit with a muffled thud, probably on top of his cloak, as he stroked his oiled hand over his cock. Harry watched, absently tensing his stomach, making his cock rub slightly over his skin as he squirmed, waiting. Draco wiped his hand off on the sheets to rid the excess oil before he reached under Harry's knees, lifting them up and pushing them towards Harry's chest.

He held them wide and let Harry hold one while Draco steadied his cock to the slick and stretched hole. The blond leaned forward, slowly pushing past the tight ring of muscle until he was fully encased in warm, wet flesh. Harry had exhaled sharply at the breach, and he tried to even his breathing as he looked up at Draco, his knees hooked over the blond's shoulders. Draco pulled back and pushed his cock in again, gasping as Harry tensed around him. He pressed harder, deeper into Harry's body, and felt Harry's lips on his jaw.

Draco tilted his head, letting the kisses trail across and down his neck as he thrust. He pressed his own lips to Harry's shoulder, thrusting more in a rhythm now, and it took the other boy a few moments to start pushing back against him in sync, moving with him. They both moaned as Draco thrust in and out, and Harry was starting to go insane, much to the blond's obvious delight, but he didn't want this to end too soon. He began to pull away, letting Harry's legs slip from his shoulders, and Harry's hands let go reluctantly of his neck.

Harry was about to say something, Draco knew, but he quieted him. "Shh, hold on," he murmured to the dark-haired boy, who waited as he shifted, cock still inside his body. Harry watched Draco lift a leg over his head, barely brushing against the soft blond hair, and found himself slowly turned onto his right side. Draco lay down behind Harry, holding himself up against the boy's back. He let his left hand move down to Harry's ass, pulling the cheeks apart before he pushed his cock in deeper.

The other boy elicited a gasp of pleasure as the head of Draco's cock hit a sensitive spot inside of him. Draco moved his hand to Harry's hip, holding firmly, and fingers holding tight into the skin as he began to thrust harder. It felt so good after however long it had been since they'd been together like this. He hadn't even been bothered the night before when Harry had cuddled against him. He must be getting used to it, but he knew it was more than tolerance, or at least he vaguely hoped it was, which was starting to be a strange thought for Draco.

As he rocked his hips, thrusting into Harry, hearing the boy moan, Draco pressed his mouth to Harry's neck. The hair wasn't too long, and he could mouth along the sensitive skin there, making the fine hairs stand up over Harry's back. Draco could feel the little goosebumps against his chest, and grinned, now using his teeth, dragging them over Harry's neck. Draco lost himself in the pleasure, but when he heard his name called, he opened his eyes, and felt Harry's hand over his fingers, trying to pull them up.

He'd been digging them in too hard, and he quickly let go, shifting his arm over Harry's waist, his hand brushing against Harry's cock. Harry moaned at the contact, even if it was inadvertent, but Draco moved his hand back, wrapping it around the hard length and began to stroke as he thrust. He couldn't quite keep them in time, and when he felt Harry's hand over his again, he let the other boy take over. Draco settled his hand flat over Harry's stomach, making sure not to dig his fingers in this time.

He stilled suddenly, for barely a moment, and his eyes looked down, slightly startled at where his hand was. Draco began moving again, before Harry had a chance to think his brief stop was anything more than moving a foot for traction, but his eyes remained open, staring down at his own hand over Harry's slightly protruding stomach. He hadn't even thought about it until now, and he'd certainly never touched. It seemed almost surreal that the other boy was even with child to begin with, but he knew it to be true, especially now.

Harry had stopped stroking himself, more concentrating on pressing back on Draco's cock, and he moved his hand over Draco's again, holding it there. He didn't know what the blond was thinking, but he could almost tell it was something slightly upsetting. Harry knew they'd not really talked about it, but this seemed like a step in that direction. He'd been learning with Draco that it wasn't exactly what was said that made an approach, but the emotions the blond had behind it that led to the point of him actually being able to speak about anything.

Draco had slowed his thrusts when Harry's hand settled, and he felt the other boy's fingers stroke between the gaps of his own, splayed over the bulge. He wanted to be careful now, but it felt too good. He jerked his hand out from under the other boy's, noticing the halt in moans from Harry when he did so. Draco frowned, wanting to hold onto something, and he grabbed Harry's cock in his hand and began stroking it with determination, this time able to match his thrusts into Harry's body. He was glad he didn't have to see the dark-haired boy's face right now, not sure if he could have handled it.

Harry let out a sharp gasp when Draco held his cock, stroking firmly. It felt so good and Draco's quick thrusts found his prostate and continued to press against it until Harry couldn't hold back any longer. He came in thick spurts all over their hands, his which was still on his stomach, and Draco's, his strokes slowing but slick now with some of the come. Draco loved the sounds Harry made, and thought he'd even heard his name again, before the clenching muscles became too much along his cock and his own climax followed.

Draco emptied himself into Harry, his body jerking, his breathing shallow. They lay still for a moment, catching their breaths, before Draco pulled away slowly and rolled onto his back. Harry felt alone and almost cold when Draco moved and he missed the feeling of being filled. He was happy they were being more physical again, and he reached to pull the blanket back up over them. He didn't regret it, but the look on Draco's face made him unsure of their odd relationship again. Draco was still frowning slightly, breathing deeply through his nose, his lips turned down at one corner.

He looked like he wanted to be anywhere other than where he was, and Harry didn't know whether to go any closer to him or to stay on his own side of the bed. Harry had no idea whether anything had changed now, for better or worse, in their supposed relationship. He sighed softly to himself, turning himself to face Draco, who still had his eyes closed. He felt a shift under the pillows, and realized it was the blond's arm. Harry smiled when he noticed the hand under his head was nudging him closer, and he obliged, snuggling up to Draco's side. Draco was very close to falling asleep, and he let his face relax, knowing it wouldn't do any good to be thinking of what he had been. Harry came closer, and that made him feel a bit better. He knew the other boy would be asleep soon, and he felt strangely secure being next to him.

@>*~

It was quiet in the room save for the occasional sigh from Lucius, swears muttered under Pettigrew's breath, and the spits from the fire that Snape sat in front of, staring at the flames as they licked and spat some more against the wood they burned. He couldn't remember how long he'd been there in terms of hours, but it had been a large portion of his day, and now was draining his evening of any pleasure he would have taken simply at not sitting across from the Dark Lord in his chambers. When Snape had left before, he knew it would only be a matter of time before he found himself in this position, and here he was.

He'd had at least an hour to himself, pacing the floor of his room and listening to snippets of conversation when other Death Eaters passed in the hall outside his door, before his Mark burned on his arm once more. Snape had sighed, stalking out of his room, straight to the Dark Lord. If he was going to be killed, he'd rather it be without any nonsense. He hadn't been surprised to see the other two men in Voldemort's chambers when he'd reached them, but he didn't think they'd ignore him almost completely.

Lucius had watched him curiously for a few minutes, barely looking back to his game with Wormtail to move his pieces as he kept his eyes on Snape. Of course the rat didn't speak at all, and wouldn't even look at him, but Voldemort did say something, if not much more than, "Sit with me, Severus." Snape would have doubted his own sanity at the situation if he didn't know better. It'd been, indeed, hours ago when he'd taken his seat, and the other two men were still playing their damned game. He supposed he couldn't hold it against them, and he almost wished for something more to take his mind off of where he was and why in Merlin's name he was still there.

Snape looked to the glass in his hand. He drank half of the clear-colored and strange liquor since he'd been in the room. It'd been waiting on the side table, and Voldemort watched him pointedly, not looking away, until Severus had taken a drink. If there were any poison mixed into it, it would have reacted by now, he knew, or even a potion would have drawn at his senses after so long. He sighed and shifted in the large chair he sat in, though quietly, as he didn't want to draw too much attention or project his boredom any more so.

He stared almost unblinkingly at the fire still crackling, and let his mind drift to more important things. The Dark Lord knew Potter and the younger Malfoy were on their way to the castle, but Snape wondered how they would be received, whether he could get to them first, before any harm was done. He wasn't entirely worried about Voldemort prying into his head again, since he really had extracted all the useful information already. If the man had thought Snape to be hiding something more, he would have already tried, thus, leaving Snape to think about whatever he wished.

Short of being tied to a chair, he certainly wasn't stupid enough to try and get away now, so there was nothing for him to do about it but weather his time there. If there were anything to ruin his status as a spy, it was this, though strangely enough, he still felt like he was trusted, but with the forethought he had, Snape knew he wouldn't be for much longer. Death was not a thing for him to be scared of at this point in his life, but it would more than likely cause inconveniences for others.

His body would need to be taken care of, at the very least. If he died, his possessions wouldn't matter to him, or to anyone else save a new Potions master. Teaching was something he did enjoy, but one thing was that the students didn't always necessarily share his enthusiasm over such a particular practice that was Potions. The children annoyed him more than life, but he could handle it to be doing something he loved. Snape couldn't help but try to run through potential successors in his mind and couldn't think of many. Strangely enough, Lupin was near the top of the list.

Snape frowned into his glass even as he took another sip from it, not particularly keen about the drink, but it burned, and it helped. Lupin. He'd never really got on great with the werewolf, of course, he was still bitter over certain incidents from their years together as students at Hogwarts. He'd worked hard to see past those things, and the two of them had formed a sort of bond over their troubles. Soon, Snape had found himself letting go his tight grip on past events, rather than spending his time annoyed that Lupin held the professorship for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Of course, Dumbledore would simply get a new professor for Potions, regardless of whether or not Snape would prefer Lupin to take the job on. He couldn't do both, though, and Snape had to admit, if only to himself, the other was a harder position to fill. They'd worked through a lot of animosity, and had found themselves at a stand still, the only thing left to do being to become friends, however begrudgingly. Though it was rather one-sided on that, considering Lupin's forgive and forget attitude. He'd accepted any friendly advance given, albeit with a certain amount of wariness, even if Snape was less than courteous about it. It was never his fault the events in the past other than to be bitten, but Severus couldn't hold that against him.

He was starting to miss the school, sitting in the staff room and listening to the other teachers prattle on about whatever their latest student dilemma. Snape let a deep breath out silently, and crossed a leg over his knee. With the precious cargo that Potter was carrying, Snape could only give blind hope that Harry wouldn't get himself killed. It still didn't sit well in his mind the reason how the boy's 'cargo' came to be, either. He had a mind to believe it was nowhere near a mutually agreed upon experience, and he also couldn't find himself trusting the young blond to do the right thing when they arrived. That was precisely what the Dark Lord was counting on, and Snape knew it.

He would have shook his head at the disappointment he dealt with daily in his life and what he saw in his students' lives, but it wasn't worth the effort, and neither was dwelling on the potential doom he'd led the two boys towards. Severus closed his eyes for a moment, letting his mind clear before he risked a glance at the other occupants of the room. He turned his head, looking to the other side of the room between his and the Dark Lord's chairs. Lucius was reclined in his own, looking like he had not a care in the world.

He was clearly not paying much attention to the chessboard, and he swept his eyes to Snape's as soon as he finished his move. They both wore about the same expression, boredom and curiosity, and Snape didn't feel the need to start anything, even if merely a conversation, with the man. He looked to Peter, slumped over his side of the board, ratty face screwed up into utter concentration before a triumphant smile appeared on his face. He probably thought he'd finally bested Lucius, but the blond uncrossed his arm from the other across his chest, and moved his bishop three spaces before declaring, "Checkmate."

Pettigrew sat back in his chair, throwing his hands up before letting them drop into his lap. He squinted at the board, obviously perturbed as he shook his head, cursing under his breath, though loud enough in the quiet room for all others to hear. Snape turned back, ignoring Lucius' eyes attempting to catch his again, but he couldn't escape or avoid the next pair that held him as he looked past the Dark Lord. Voldemort had his own glass raised to his lips, which were pulled thin from the tight skin over his cheekbones. There was something different in his glass to what was in Snape's, and he had no idea what it was either.

He couldn't look away from the man when he stared at him the way he was, and that only left Severus to look back. The Dark Lord no longer looked strictly reptilian, though there were some properties left, of course. He'd seen a picture of the Dark Lord when he was younger. Voldemort had been once a handsome young man, and not for the first time did Snape wonder how he came to be transformed so much, and now striving to change back.

As Snape took a closer look, he recalled the memory of the picture, a dark-haired boy with severely determined eyes, unsmiling, blinking slowly up at him from the photo before a corner of his lip raised, and Snape had turned the photo over. His hair was dark again, though not as thick and with a few streaks of grey at his temples, which was in itself such a change from only a year previous. His face was thin and pale, and his eyes no longer the abnormal red, though flecks remained throughout the blue.

Severus knew there were many potions and charms to change appearances, but this type of reconfiguration took extensive planning and rare magical properties to re-form such a gruesome look. He knew the Dark Lord had access to many other stores of ingredients other than his own, and Snape again wondered what spells and potions were used to regain the handsome face before him. It was not perfect, though it never could be; there were scars, more than just on his face. He watched Voldemort close his eyes, and reopen them towards the fire, and Snape was now free to do the same.

He had no idea how long he'd have to endure, but he just hoped he'd be alive long enough to keep the boys out of trouble and get them safely back to Hogwarts. The letter he sent to Lupin would arrive very soon, and he tried to keep his pessimism to a minimum at how his words would be read. He hadn't written explicitly, but well enough so that certain things would be conveyed. He had to keep the boy alive, no matter how much it pained him to do so, even if it meant giving his own life for those who would need it more.

@>*~

When Remus came out of Hagrid's hut, he certainly didn't expect to be startled into dropping his bucket of Flobberworms to the ground at the sight of a huge eagle owl sitting on the grass. It was apparently waiting for him, and if it could have, would have raised an eyebrow at him, but the owl was distracted by a slowly wriggling Flobberworm that had been jostled out of the pail. Remus eased down to grab the handle again as the owl viciously stabbed at the worm with its beak. It devoured the helpless worm and then looked up at Remus, eyes dark. It had a small letter attached to its leg with black string.

Remus frowned at it, and he wondered if he'd not be bleeding after he untied the letter. The owl seemed a bit more patient after eating the Flobberworm, though, and he bent down again, his hand stretched out cautiously, palm up and fingers out to show that he wasn't planning on causing harm to the large bird. He almost jerked away when the eagle owl moved its head and lifted its leg, but it simply snipped the string with its beak and hopped backwards out of range. It spread its wings and gave an awful screech before taking off into the air. Remus shook his head and watched for a moment before heading back to the castle.

He'd half expected Hagrid to be peering out his window at the bird, which really had been huge, but Remus was glad the half giant hadn't done that. Before he even made it through one corridor on the first floor as he started on his way back to his classrooms, the letter in his hand drew his attention so much that he had to stop and set his pail down, much to the chagrin of a few passing students as they couldn't help but gaze into it. The string had been left on the lawn, he realized, and he simply unrolled the parchment, which felt strange under his fingers. It might have been Transfigured, because he'd never felt such oily paper in his life. He also didn't want to think about what it had previously been.

'Lupin -

Your message was barely comprehensible,   
but I managed to grasp the immediate matter   
at hand. I will not be able to leave - not until   
they get here, at least. I know I will be watched   
closely.

He will know too much too soon, if not already. Much  
is at stake, and I fear I am not capable of getting  
away from here with more than myself in one piece,  
if that.

His men are gathered in Lena; he is planning.  
I have inescapably informed Narcissa Malfoy of her  
son's absence from school.

-Severus Snape'

Remus stared at it for another moment, letting it settle in his brain. He was glad his message had been transferred adequately, but it seemed it wasn't as great as he thought it would be to begin with. The important thing was that it had reached Snape, and he'd had time, perhaps not much, to reply. He rolled the letter up again, grabbed the pail, and walked the rest of the way to his classroom. The boys must be close to their destination if Snape was really as concerned as his letter suggested.

He was almost torn between chuckling and sighing, the first at Snape's way of telling Lupin he was incompetent and the way he'd so subtly asked for assistance and the second was simply the fact that Snape had asked for help. Remus sat down in an armchair near the fireplace in his private chambers and looked absently out the window at the treetops. The Headmaster had told him his assistance would be needed, but he wasn't sure how he could have helped. Remus' thoughts had been more along the lines of taking care of things at the school, perhaps even taking over the Potions classes as well as Defense if Snape was gone for too long.

Now he knew it to be something more than simply going to Durmstrang to oversee a safe return. If Snape needed help, he would be among the first to go, as well as any Aurors that Dumbledore had contacted already. He spared a moment to realize the letter had been directed at himself, instead of Dumbledore. Lupin wasn't sure why Snape had addressed it to him, but it certainly had gone smoothly to do it that way, as he doubted it would have upon being sent to the busy Headmaster. He still had no idea what was keeping the old wizard occupied, but he had too much to think about to worry about that.

The students still noticed Harry and Draco's absence, but now they were quiet about it. There were the occasional whispers about the upcoming Quidditch match of Gryffindor's, wondering who was going to play Seeker if Harry hadn't returned by then. With Snape gone as well, there would definitely be a lot more attention being paid to the staff members by the more concerned and astute pupils. Remus sighed and closed his eyes as he leaned his head back. He had time to relax a little before he needed to get on with his preparations for class. It was still early in the morning and he had at least an hour before breakfast.

Still, he thought, with Snape gone, there was bound to be an influx in students misbehaving with the Slytherin Head of House absent to deduct points from them at any given turn, or give detentions. There would also be some students, particularly some Slytherins, who would realize the reason behind the missing persons from Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione had come to see him almost every day, for sure on every other, asking him if he knew anything more than the time before. He couldn't say he did, but this at least was a little more detail to add to their small pile. Perhaps they'd get something that fit together, before too much attention was drawn to their soon-to-become-drastic problem.

Most students wouldn't care about Snape, as long as they received a free period to do as they pleased, but some would know, Remus would bet on it. Draco and Harry had obviously found out easily enough. Or, been told, he realized, since Harry must have been the one to instigate the trip. He shook his head, eyes still closed, with a small smile pulling at his lips. There was no way to understand Albus' reasoning behind telling the boy where Snape had been headed, but it must be for the best in the end. As he directed his mind elsewhere, since he did have other priorities, Remus wondered how on earth he was going to find what he needed in the Potions storeroom for any of his own classes.

Remus sighed. He missed Snape, oddly enough. Over the past two years, they'd grown into an awkward sort of friendship, or camaraderie, such as it was, he supposed. He missed the not-so-awkward-anymore silences that settled between them in the staffroom late at night. Remus made his way there in the evening, depositing his armload of homework and essays to grade from his last class before heading to the Great Hall. Severus always left dinner earlier than Lupin, but he was always in the staff room when Remus came to collect his papers, or simply stay there to do them. He did use it as a guise to sit with the other man, he could admit that to himself, as well as that he enjoyed it immensely, though he knew Snape would never admit to that, to himself or otherwise, Remus doubted.

After a few days of the same occurrences, Remus fondly remembered Severus bristling when he smiled over at the other man hunched over his own papers. He'd gotten up, making a sweeping show of doing so, gathering his papers and stalking from the room. The next day, he was back, and glared at Remus when he'd glanced over again. So it became that they grew closer, in a different way than most people would. There had still been the general acceptance that needed to be achieved between them, and Remus was hopeful that they'd crossed that bridge already. He didn't intend to run back and burn it for good measure, as seemed to be what usually happened in his life, though he surely wasn't about to state any demands of the friendship that might scare Severus away.

That thought was simply absurd: scaring Snape, honestly. Remus grinned to himself, still gazing absently out his window, his head now propped in his palm which was held up by his elbow resting on the arm of the chair. He didn't know if he wanted something more out of the friendship, he didn't know what he wanted at all, really, but he could tell something was there. No matter how small or minute it was, or no matter how begrudgingly Snape tried to hide or suppress anything, Remus could see it there. He'd never told his friends, but he'd never hated Snape, or even disliked him at all. He didn't see the point in saying so either way, but they assumed he felt the same way about the Slytherin in their days at school.

Sometimes he regretted that, but they seemed to be working through it, and Remus didn't tend to bring any school memories up in front of Severus if he could help it. They had new school memories to make, this time together in a more positive manner, and quite without outside influences. The first time Remus had asked when Snape was planning on brewing a specific potion, the Potions master had balked; seemingly, no one had ever asked him a question like that before. After some lengthy explanation, Severus had calmed down, and thus began the collaborative efforts to make things stick in their students' heads. They started with making potions to counteract any poisons from dangerous or Dark creatures which would be learned about in Defense Against the Dark Arts. That seemed to work out well, and Snape even grumbled something about his students paying more attention in class.

Things continued smoothly, though with ups and downs, and after one particularly nasty explosion in his laboratory, Severus ceased participating in anything directly related to Lupin's class. It'd taken a while for the Slytherin to again warm up to the ideas Remus put forth, but eventually he did. One evening after Remus having asked during the final meal of the day, they'd found themselves carrying two boxes of ingredients back up to Lupin's classrooms, without the use of magic, which struck Remus as a bit odd, considering that Snape didn't even have to come along, especially if Remus were simply levitating the boxes. It did give Severus a good enough excuse for the time being, though, and he stayed and sneered as Lupin sorted things where they ought to be in his classroom when they arrived, Severus commenting on improper handling techniques the whole time.

The other man had started to talk more civilly, if it could have been called that, as he turned the conversation towards the full moon that had been coming up at the time. Remus smiled to himself, though a bit sadly: that was usually as close as Snape came to speaking about anything regarding either of their personal lives. There was a moment that Remus had thought perhaps Snape was going to say something further, go another step in their friendship, at least, but that was before they were interrupted. If it had been anyone but Harry, maybe they could have resumed after a small hiatus spent emptying the boxes. Severus had become entirely more alert and foreboding the moment the knock came at the doorjamb, the door being wide open.

With a few quick quips to the young Gryffindor, Snape had whisked out the door, leaving Remus to gape. He'd almost wanted to tell Harry to leave, or say he would be right back, so he could run after Severus, but he couldn't do that. After all Harry had been through in his life, and still was going through, there was no way Remus could brush him off so lightly, especially to go after something that might not have been there in the first place. Remus sighed; he wished Harry were around, because he missed him, too. He had been opening up a bit more, talking about things with Lupin, and he liked that.

It was so easy to talk to Harry, and sometimes Remus had to make sure he remembered it wasn't James he was sitting across from over a chessboard. Harry even reminded him of his old friend, and not only because he was the boy's father, but because they really were so much alike. Regardless how Harry didn't like to be told they were so much the same, they really were; though, of course, there were enough things different about them to make them each unique individuals. The one thing that usually drew Remus back to the present, instead of whiling the time away, drifting back to his own time as a student with his friends, was the fact that he'd lost those friends, and there was always the pain of holding that inside of himself.

He'd never gotten over it. James and Lily, he couldn't even think about their deaths anymore; he'd overanalyzed the situation, and no matter how many 'well, maybe I could have's' he had run through his mind, he knew he never could have stopped it from happening. Perhaps he could have changed things for Sirius, but not for James and Lily, and Peter had already dug his own grave. From James to Sirius, neither of whom had properly spent enough time with Harry, and now to him: Remus Lupin. He was now responsible for Harry, no matter the painful circumstances of why he was supposed to do that, or how.

Harry even reminded him of Sirius. He wasn't sure if it was due to the man's influence on James or Harry himself that made it to shine through, but he saw it sometimes. If he was honest with himself, it really was Sirius he missed. It could have been just because it was the most recent wound to his familial network of friends, but he'd always been close to him. During the time spent at Grimmauld Place, they'd often slept in the same bed, and it had been very hard to even lie down to sleep anywhere after Sirius was gone.

They never went further than the occasional intimate touch, but they held each other, and to both of them, perhaps to Remus more so, it was their safety and peace of mind that kept each other intact. Remus had no idea how many nights they'd stayed up, talking about Harry and his future. Not in the way that most people did, assuming what he'd do, but rather in the way of wondering what he'd do, what he'd be good at; who would look after him. There were times when Remus almost thought Sirius would commit suicide by the amount of time he spent talking about himself as if he was dead and gone; whether he actually had been thinking it, Remus hoped he knew the man well enough to know he wasn't, or if he knew deep down that something was going to happen to him.

It didn't sit well to hear him talk of how he would eventually get himself killed, but he and Remus did arrange that should anything happen to Sirius, Remus would take care of Harry. It'd always struck a chord with Remus for the boy to be passed through the care of many adults, some that didn't care at all, and some that cared too much. He and Sirius had almost acted as fathers for Harry, and he would have been staying with them in the summers, at Grimmauld Place, if nothing had happened. As it was, Harry had stayed with Remus last year, and was set to do so after this current school year. Remus just hoped he'd be back well before then.

Harry hadn't said much concerning his living arrangements for after he was finished with his schooling at Hogwarts, but Remus presumed, if Harry had no other plans, that he'd live with him over the summer, at least. Though, now that Harry was with Draco, maybe he wouldn't even want or need to be with Remus for the summer at all. Remus chuckled as he shook his head slightly, wondering if the two were going to stay together, or if they even were; it was confusing enough of a thought to consider them being remotely close to friends, being practically opposites at everything. Though, look at Severus and himself, he thought: they'd still begun to grow closer, despite horribly large differences between them. They might even be called friends, in a loosely-termed sense of the word.

Harry might simply be moving on with his life, too. This might simply be another adventure in the teen's life, for all Remus knew at the moment. Maybe he'd come back and take up a girlfriend, get married.... Just then, Remus had an odd thought pass through his head. He frowned for a moment, but then his face cleared, strangely accepting of the new idea. It fit with all the other clues he'd seen. Strange, indeed. Remus looked back to the window and saw the difference in light from the sun shining down on the grounds.

Quickly, he looked to the clock above his fireplace and stood, realizing how long he'd sat there, lost in his own thoughts. He passed through his chambers to the desk in his main classroom and picked up a few things before heading down to the main floor. He felt a little bit better, though not much, about the current state of affairs at the school and with his own life, but he needed to get on with the day. He'd have time to himself later, hopefully, but he did have to spend some of his free time speaking to others involved in the two boys' disappearance. He needed to tell Ron and Hermione about the letter, as well as the Headmaster (whom he'd tell at breakfast, leaving the parchment with the old man), but he couldn't skip out on his classes.

@>*~

It'd been about six and a half minutes by Severus' count of the seconds gone by since he had been summoned, and it was the only thing keeping him sane in the quiet room full of murderers, thieves, and escaped convicts that he was in forced company with. He'd tried his best to avoid conversation, but he could see a few that might still approach him if they were to wait much longer for the Dark Lord. Bellatrix had left him alone, seemingly forgetting about him altogether, but he knew that wasn't the case. She'd set her brother-in-law to keeping an eye on him, and it was getting rather annoying to have Rabastan stare at him from his vantage point halfway up the staircase to the far side of the room.

He was about ready to leave the room, perhaps to leave and try to intercept the boys, but Snape knew that would be foolish. If anything, Voldemort would send someone to watch him, as well as Rabastan to follow him, and that would only make him have less time to prepare for the mad dash that would be his escape. He felt a weight on his shoulders, and he turned slowly, glancing around the room, catching sight of a distracted Rabastan watching a blond head walk through the crowd. Lucius had entered the room, progressing in towards his sister-in-law. Snape had a fleeting thought of apprehension: if Voldemort had told Lucius about their upcoming guests and the elder Malfoy spoke to Bellatrix of the matter, Snape could be viewed even more as a traitor in her eyes. She tolerated him of course, because he did provide information, though in this particular matter, he could be viewed as a co-conspirator to the younger Malfoy.

That, of course, was a strange matter altogether; surely, he thought, the Dark Lord would presume Draco to be on their side, bringing Potter to him willingly. As much as it worried him to admit it, there was no way to tell whether or not that was the truth. Snape watched the two of them from a distance, keeping sight of their lips as they spoke. Neither one of them turned to look in his direction, though the youngest Lestrange had returned to his vigil. Bellatrix must have known something, or had been suspicious to set eyes on him, but she didn't know enough to know anything at all. Lucius parted from her, and waited at a point in the center of the room. The Death Eaters around him stilled their murmurs and became aware that he was waiting. Pettigrew soon came to his side, but Lucius did not look at him at all, still waiting for their master's arrival.

The room was quiet, tension and attention piqued, but Voldemort did not keep them. He walked into the room, robes flowing behind him and, though it was odd to think it, he looked better than he had the last time he'd been seen by his followers. He stood in front of Lucius and Peter: the men on either side of him, though a step behind, and swept his gaze through the attendants of his gathering. Many had been lost over the years, good fighters, and loyal servants, leaving him with those who could survive well enough whether by luck or skill. His ranks would soon swell with youth, ready to be trained and put to good use, but there was one more task for the group before him.

"I have been informed, my friends, that our enemy is weakened," the Dark Lord started quietly, drawing all noise from the room, commanding them all to listen. Snape knew that some wanted to look at him, that some thought of him as 'the informant' regarding inside information, being his duty as a spy; he could still always see their apprehension to believe anything to do with his loyalties. "Harry Potter is weakened, and what is more, he is already being brought to Durmstrang." Now a few scarce words broke out in the crowd, but they were quiet once more for their Lord to continue. Lucius looked supremely satisfied, and as Snape watched, the blond only became more so as Voldemort spoke. "When he arrives, you will apprehend and bring him to me. Do not touch him. You will leave him to me," he repeated, "or your own lives will be forfeit.

"He is to be allowed full entry into the castle. You will then seek him out and bind him, though if he should make it outside of the castle walls, follow him at all costs, and bring him to me." The Dark Lord paused, breathing heavily with his intensity on the matter. "You will be given my orders."

The room was silent, and the Dark Lord paused a moment to look over his Death Eaters. Snape followed the trail of Voldemort's eyes through the throng before him. Rodolphus Lestrange stood tall, unwavering as the Dark Lord stared into his mind; Goyle's shoulders hunched forward slightly at the scrutiny, but he didn't drop his eyes. There was another movement, and Snape's eyes snapped to it, watching as Wormtail began fidgeting. He narrowed his eyes, seeing something strange in the rat's eyes, and he was almost surprised when Pettigrew looked straight at him. Peter felt startled and looked away, suddenly still, glancing to Lucius, and then back to Voldemort.

There were words that Severus didn't hear, and his mind was working, trying to fit things together; trying to make a picture out of a puzzle with blank pieces. He was brought back to himself when there was noise being made in the silent room, shuffling as uniformed Death Eaters put up their masks and Apparated with a crack, and the rest began filing out of the room. Snape felt rooted to the spot, and cursed himself that he was about to draw attention. The Dark Lord gazed at him firmly, being the only one save Voldemort and his two servants left in the room. "That will be all, Severus."

Snape nodded and forced himself to pull a foot out from under his body, forcing himself to walk from the room. He walked without knowing where he was headed, but he soon found the door to his room, wheels still turning in his mind as he sat in the chair in front of the fireplace. Something was wrong, and he could feel it, yet not put his finger on it. There was almost little hope in his mind that Draco was actually trying to stop Potter from arriving, or at least offering protection for the stupidly stubborn Gryffindor, rather than dragging him there bodily to present to the Dark Lord.

They were to be given entrance, and certainly there would be Death Eaters posted at the door to keep an eye out for him, but none would be daft enough to try and bind the boy on the front steps. No, they would be allowed to wind their way into the castle, buying themselves time, getting lost in the process. The only problem would be if Snape wasn't the first to find them. Draco could avoid being seen, despite his fair hair and obvious presence, and he would certainly keep Potter with him. Snape wondered if Draco was going to give Potter to Voldemort, whether he would hide in the castle until finding the Dark Lord's chambers, or if he would announce himself and be lead straight to their Lord.

Severus closed his eyes, bringing fingers up to his nose bridge. His hair fell forward as he thought, and he was now fighting the headache that threatened from the stress about to overcome him. There wasn't going to be much time. The preliminary search party had been sent out to watch for the boys, and when they were spotted, they would be allowed in the castle to await their fate when it found them.

@>*~

A few hours later, Harry had woken to find it just becoming dark outside, and Draco was still sleeping. He hadn't moved on the bed, not wanting to wake the blond, but when he shifted his weight slightly, he looked back to see gray eyes staring back at him. They both got up after a moment, though neither of them spoke as they put their clothes on and put the few things they'd taken out back into their bag. They hadn't slept much, but it had sufficed for both of them, and Draco said few words before he Apparated to their next destination, waiting for Harry to follow. It wasn't much of a surprise by his surroundings to find, when he asked, that they were in Russia. A sign post Harry caught sight of read Vologda, the name of the city, and he hurried to stay with the blond.

He was glad not to find himself on the verge of being sick all over the old stone walk they were now traveling down. It truly felt like his insides were trying to escape in a lurch out his throat when he Apparated, though he wasn't sure whether it was his natural reaction to the process, or whether it was due to the child he carried within himself, as some proximity to morning sickness. There were still questions in his mind about how he'd even managed to become pregnant in the first place, but he didn't want to bring anything up at the moment. Draco seemed to be concentrating on something entirely other than Harry, but the dark-haired boy was quite fine with that, not wanting to break the blond's train of thought in case it was on something important.

The tension between the two of them eased after Draco had made an abrupt turn into a hotel, and Harry had almost walked right by, too wrapped in his thoughts to notice. Now they had a room for the night, and they went up and checked it out. The Slytherin disappeared into the bathroom with the bag for an hour, and bored, exhausted, Harry fell asleep during that time. He awoke to the blond sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at him, and he sat up. "Would you like to go for a walk?" he asked, and Harry nodded, rubbing at his eyes. He stopped in the bathroom for a moment to relieve himself before following Draco out of the hotel. They went at a much slower pace than they had earlier that day, and it was almost fully dark now as they made their way down the street.

He didn't want to take them too far, just in case something happened, but he didn't make them walk up and down the same street either. Draco breathed in the cool night air, watching on both sides of the street the few people still out and about. The lights in tavern windows were lit, showing dark shadows and silhouettes of the strangers inside. If he had been here by himself, Draco might have ventured inside to sit and watch the goings on, but, as it was, he was not alone. He looked across to Harry, who was staring at the ground in front of him as he walked. Draco's eyes were caught by a shadow across the street, which he realized was a person at the corner. They seemed to see him and tilt their head, almost like they wanted to hear if they were saying anything.

Harry was breathing through his mouth, so perhaps the stranger believed him to be talking softly as his lips moved. Draco stopped walking, and so did the other boy, a step later, and turned to the blond questioningly. In the brief moment it took for Draco to look to Harry and back to the corner, the figure was gone. "Let's go back," Draco said quietly, eyes narrowed, and Harry agreed, not wanting to say much as they walked back. Draco wondered why he even asked to come outside to begin with, considering they were supposed to be keeping a low profile, but he supposed he simply didn't want to feel caged and needed the air to think. He'd been wondering why he'd even come on this 'trip' to begin with. It was strange to know he was starting to feel something other than annoyance, since it never had been full out hatred of the other boy when he thought about Harry.

Draco wasn't sure what had really made the difference, or transition, as it were, from passive enemies to almost friends, at least of some sort. Though, he supposed, they were far past passive at the end of their fifth year: it was more on his part to be angry at Harry for the things that happened to his father, more so than what Harry actually did to deserve the threats Draco had made on the other boy's life. That summer when he'd gone home to a half-empty house, he'd still felt anger at Harry, but as time wore on it lessened, and after studiously ignoring the dark-haired boy through sixth year, Draco had almost gotten over it. There was sure to be some slight animosity at least, for the words said over the years between the two of them, but he was starting to realize it didn't really matter anymore what he held against people.

After the first summer, his mother began writing him letters again, having been too caught up with business during the previous school year. Usually where he would have been concerned with sweets and packages of things from home, he paid more attention to the lines she wrote on the parchments he unrolled every other morning. She sounded happier about things, and Draco began noticing that, as well as so much pressure that had been lifted from his own shoulders. When he'd come home for summer the second time after his father's incarceration, they'd sat down and talked, confiding in each other the things they had been worried on and pressured about for as long as they could remember. She loved her husband, Draco understood, but he knew how the man could be overbearing at times, wanting to dominate when it came to what he perceived as right or what was best for his family. He wanted nothing less than the best, and his mother had to agree; most saw her in the same light, agreeing she was all for everything her husband stood for. If anyone bothered to know her personally though, they'd have to change their stance on the elder Malfoys' similarities.

It took time, but Draco had realized how much he'd been forced to mature from recent events, taking his emotions into consideration, and understanding some of the finer points of his father's life in the wizarding world. There were things that bothered him, and things he could shrug off, but overall, he tried to distance himself from it, becoming more concerned with his own affairs. There were some things he wasn't quite sure what to do with, and it almost surprised him to think that his current situation didn't fall under that premise. He couldn't grasp a reason why in his mind, but somehow this felt right between him and the boy beside him, and he still had to wonder why he'd gone as far as he had, and how far he was willing to go.

They were nearing the hotel, and the blond was glancing in windows as they passed slowly, noting nothing much of interest. It was late enough to go to sleep now and be up by dusk, with some time left to spend getting ready for bed, if that's what they chose to do. "Draco?" Harry asked quietly, deciding he should just get things over with; that usually was the better way to go with things concerning him. He pulled his cloak around him as they stepped into the small alcove in front of the door to the hotel. They were both wearing the heaviest cloaks they had brought with them, and it was cold and snowing outside, considering they were in Russia. It would have been simple to transfigure them thicker, or add a warming spell to them, but they opted for coming back to avoid the chill entirely.

The blond barely turned to acknowledge that he'd heard Harry's quiet query of his name, offering, "Yes?" He didn't pause before opening the door and entering into the hotel. Draco walked ahead, brushing snowflakes off his arms and shoulders as he crossed the lobby slowly. He gave a nod to the man behind the desk, and the elderly man gave a gesture of recognition as they went by, yet he kept his eyes on them as they went. They had their hoods up still, though Draco itched to take his down, not too fond of the damp material pressing against his head, and Harry didn't like it either, the extra weight not helping him feel any more energetic.

"I've ... been meaning to ask," Harry started, not really sure how to voice his questions without seeming like a complete twit. He glanced cautiously at the concierge who watched him follow Draco to the stairs and didn't continue his question until they were halfway up. A better idea, he thought, would be to wait until they were in their room, but Draco might think he forgot; that didn't do much for his image in the blond's eyes. "How exactly was I able to get pregnant to begin with?"

It was the main question he'd been wondering the answer to since he'd first known of his impending fatherhood, and it felt good to get it off his chest. Draco hesitated mid-step, a bit unsure as how to go about answering the strange question. He supposed it would be strange to Harry if no one had ever explained even recent wizarding history to the boy, let alone things that happened at least a few hundred years before Hogwarts was founded. "No one has ever told you?" he asked instead of answering right away, still letting long forgotten facts come to mind. He really hadn't a reason to remember it since he was never in a position to be concerned about it happening to himself; the other party had always taken care of themselves and, clearly, he'd thought the same for this situation, but he'd obviously been mistaken.

The blond looked over to see Harry's hood shake side to side awkwardly under the dampened material. "Surely you don't think it was on the top of the list for my Muggle relatives to fill me in on? Other than that, I just don't think it ever occurred to anyone else that I'd need to know." Harry looked back at the other boy, whose hood was pulled back more; Harry could see half of the blond's face, contorted slightly in concentration. "No, though; no one has ever told me, hence the question."

Draco chose to ignore the annoyed tone from the dark-haired boy and continued with his answer. "Well, from what my mother told me briefly, and what my father threatened me—good naturedly, of course, to be careful because of: it's from an old curse of vengeance from a witch scorned by her unfaithful husband. I'm sure there's a little more to it, but I'm not the top scholar on human biology and the effects of specially targeted spells on them." It wasn't the best explanation, but Harry could get a better one from any history or medical book he chose to pick up and flip through the index of, so he'd leave that to him.

"Oh," Harry said in response, not really knowing what else to say. They reached a small, flat landing before they turned and headed up another flight of stairs. It wasn't really doing much good for Harry, but he wasn't tired yet, and he knew this was the last stretch before they reached their room. The rest of the climb was spent in silence between them, as were the first few minutes spent in the room. Draco opened the door, letting Harry inside, and locked it behind himself when he came in a moment later. Harry went straight for the bed, wanting to sit down. He wasn't exactly too tired, but he just didn't feel up to doing much. He set the bag down a few feet from the bed and sat down gently before stretching out on his back.

Draco made his way to the fireplace, pulling his wand out as he went to start the fire. He summoned a chair closer to the now blazing fire, sitting down to watch it for a minute before he turned and looked towards Harry. The other boy was lying on his back, one arm splayed out beside him and the other rubbing his stomach. "What, are you hungry?" the blond asked, the first thought to come to mind. Barely a second later had he realized it might have been a bit rude. He couldn't help it: it still hadn't quite sunk in, the actuality that the boy was pregnant.

Harry's hand stilled on his stomach and his head turned to look at Draco, a vaguely hurt look in his eyes, but it looked more like petty annoyance to the blond. He'd never known Harry to really do the whole feeling hurt routine; he more often opted for vengeful, harsh, and rash decisions, really. "Actually, I am a little, but I was just thinking of a clothing shop I saw on the street with matching infant robes and whatnot."

Harry had turned his head back to look at the ceiling as he answered, and almost frowned at the odd silence that followed. He didn't even hear the other boy shift in the chair, and the fire had seemed to die down a bit. "Harry," he heard Draco begin, breaking the silence, though he didn't raise his voice higher than was necessary to be heard, "if you're planning to make me buy baby booties tomorrow, I'll slaughter you in your sleep."

"How romantic," Harry scoffed.

"Look, that's not what we're here for, alright?" Draco snapped back, almost wincing himself at the sharp tone of his voice. Harry stilled, not wanting to open his eyes again to see the other boy from the corner of his eye. He felt the urge to pull his hand away from his stomach, but he couldn't get it to move. It wasn't like it was his fault, or at least entirely his fault. The silence crept back into the room between them, only allowing for the occasional crackle of the fire on Draco's side, and if Harry concentrated hard enough, he could hear a tiny drip from somewhere in the lavatory.

"I'm sorry." Draco said abruptly. Harry opened his eyes at the sudden words, but he didn't expect anymore. He slowly sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the side, but he paused before he got up, chancing a look at the other boy. Draco looked back at him, catching his eye. Harry didn't want to say anything, not knowing what would come out of his mouth, whether it would offend the blond further or not, so he simply nodded, accepting the apology for now. Draco looked away after that, back to the fire, and Harry stood to make his way to the bathroom.

Draco sighed softly to himself when he heard the door shut, and as soon as it opened again, he glanced to the side and watched as the dark-haired boy walked back to the bed. He looked at him, with his messy hair, glasses, and that stupid scar. He did notice that he'd been staring a lot at the other boy, more frequently in the past couple days since their whole strange relationship had began. There were things he'd change of course, but he had to admit Harry was attractive in his own way. The blond very seriously doubted that Harry would change his style, obtain a new wardrobe simply because someone wanted him to, or get rid of his glasses—which really needed to be replaced with contact sheets, or whatever those Muggles called them.

Sometimes he wondered why Harry ever dressed and presented himself the way he did when he had the money to do otherwise, but he supposed it really could have something to do with his father. They did look alike, and he wasn't just going on overheard mumblings from Professor Snape after particularly tiresome Potions classes dealing with Potter, he'd seen a couple of old pictures in memorable copies of _Quidditch Weekly_ that were kept in the library. So, for all he knew, maybe Harry's father had dressed like he hadn't a sickle in all of Britain, either.

It was odd to think he could even possibly be falling, in any way, for the Gryffindor, and he didn't even know what had possessed him to knock him over and shag him in the middle of the grounds. Anyone could have seen them, it was true, not to mention that imbecile of a half-giant, Hagrid; so why had he done it? He supposed he hadn't been having that great of a day and needed some sort of stress relief, but that didn't sound like a very convincing argument, even to him. The night before wasn't on his list of greatest days ever either, or nights, actually, as it were. He wasn't sure what had quite transpired between the two of them, but he hadn't been able to stop thinking about the baby.

The whole fatherhood aspect didn't quite sit well in his mind, though it had finally registered. He knew it was possible, that hadn't been the problem, but it was the fact there was nothing tying them together to make it seem like it had really happened, instead of just something that had been tossed around verbally. He'd noticed the slight swell on Harry's abdomen, though, and he couldn't deny that, at least. He'd still been thinking about it all a lot lately, but the thing was, he wasn't sure if he was ready to be a father. His own hadn't been a very good role model, so how was he expected to do any better himself without even any experience around children younger than eleven? It wasn't as if he had to be nice, or look after the first years either, so that put him even more at odds’ end.

His mind drifted to his father for a moment, thinking of the last time he'd even spoken to the man. It'd been during the week of the trials, and the older man had promised to write. His mother got the letters, as they were all sent to the manor addressed to her, and she never let him read them. He knew some of them had been sent for him and him alone, not his mother, but he never received even those. He assumed she was trying to protect him, to a certain extent, but he was unsure as to why. She passed on Lucius' regards and asked the few questions that filtered through her approval that he'd asked. Draco knew he would probably spend more time writing carefully planned letters to his father in Azkaban than he would on his homework; he had to scoff to himself at the way he could see himself trying to win his father's approval, even with him miles away.

At least he didn't have to agree with everything his father did, or sneer in the same general or pointedly obvious directions the older man told him to. They both had respect for each other, and love, of sorts, but they agreed not to see eye to eye on everything, at least, and for that, things stayed tense between them. In his younger years, his father didn't spend much time with him, but after he started at Hogwarts, the pressure started. He hadn't been sure why, perhaps it was because of a certain, bloody annoying boy sorted into Gryffindor, but it had put an even larger strain on their relationship. There were moments when they got on famously, but they were few and far between. There were times he'd wished his father were there at home when he'd gone back for holidays: he'd step into the mansion's cold foyer and forget his father wasn't there to welcome him into the warm parlor and ask him grueling questions about the school year so far.

A loud spit of the fire brought Draco from his thoughts, and his eyes refocused on the fire. He had been unaware he'd actually looked back to the flames, and he turned his head towards the side of the bed, to see Harry lying there again, staring up at the ceiling absently as he ate a candy bar, jaw working as he crunched on what Draco presumed must be peanuts. They were such an undignified snack, but Draco had to admit they tasted good enough for him to eat, though perhaps with his face turned away so he didn't make a spectacle of himself chewing. Harry seemed to realize he was being watched and tilted his head to see Draco watching him with a slightly amused look. "What?" he asked, not aggressively, but rather just wondering why Draco was almost smiling at him.

"Nothing," the blond answered, letting one corner of his lip quirk up for a second, and Harry smiled back before he returned to chewing. Draco turned his attention to the room, and Harry seemed to broaden his gaze from the ceiling. It was a bit nicer than the hotel they'd stayed at in Belarus, though it was more suitable for their needs, but this was more to Draco's taste, Harry thought. He'd only seen the inside of the hotel room at their last stop, but he assumed it wasn't as nice overall as the one they were currently staying in. This one was a bit bigger and they had room service, he'd noticed, as he looked down a hall on the second floor as they were coming up to their room. It wasn't a big concern of his, just as long as he got sleep before having to Apparate to their next destination, he was happy without someone waiting on them in the middle of the night just to bring them food.

Harry pulled himself up more, leaning against the pillows as he finished his candy bar, and watched as Draco leaned over, some of his hair falling over his face more as he pulled the bag towards himself to grab a bag of crisps from within. Draco was only a bit hungry, and since it was late, he didn't want to bother trying to find somewhere that might still be open. Despite what a majority of people might think, he didn't get his jollies by ordering people, or house-elves, for that matter, to bring food up to his room. This was the whole point to buying some food for their bag, but, he thought, it was more in the case of if they were stranded somewhere, not sitting in front of a fire and on a comfortable bed, but, though he would have liked many things from a gourmet kitchen, this would suffice for the time being.

He finished his snack as quietly as he could, and when he heard Harry rustling as he pulled the sheets back he went and washed his hands and brushed his teeth before joining the dark-haired boy near the bed. He started to slowly take his clothes off, though he kept his trousers on, and he noted Harry did as well. It wasn't quite unusual, but it seemed a bit odd considering they'd shagged the night before; but they still weren't sure if the other was comfortable sleeping in only their boxers, or less. They both got into bed and assumed what had become their usual positions with each other, though Harry soon turned towards Draco. The blond laid still, not knowing what the other boy had in mind, but Harry simply settled into Draco's body, setting a hand gently on his bare chest.

His fingers began to move after a few minutes, absently tracing nonsense patterns on the pale skin; it wasn't in any sexual manner, mostly just to have something to do, since Harry wasn't quite tired enough to fall asleep yet. The fire had died down, and Draco stared up at the ceiling, definitely not seeing anything so fascinating as to have held Harry's attention for so long earlier. He eventually found his eyes trying to mimic the swirling patterns being smoothed over his chest onto the roof of the room before he began thinking again. Harry must have been thinking about something though, to be able to ignore what was in front of his eyes in favor of what was going on in his mind, though not to be confused with simply going mad, of course.

Draco wondered what the other boy could have been thinking about, though. He'd seemed rather cheerful the whole time, so he doubted Harry had been thinking about the Dark Lord. That was something he was sure both of them had been trying to keep their minds off of, not choosing it as prime pondering material as they sat happily munching on a snack, contemplating the man who'd killed Harry's parents, and even several of Draco's close cousins. Those were things that had happened in the past, though, and he supposed they were more stressful to think about than what could potentially happen at their final destination. He took a deep breath that pressed Harry's fingers flat against his chest at it's apex as he thought how if Voldemort had never come back, none of this would ever have happened. Did he regret it that much to not want any of this to have happened at all? He didn't think so; he was more referring to the current circumstances, not the relationship between them, wasn't he?

"What really happened during fourth year?" He wasn't sure where to really begin with this train of thought, or why he'd actually asked the question out loud. There had been more personal information shared between them lately, but it had seemed to Draco that it was almost to keep a truce, to keep some sort of balance to the reason why they were still together right now, or for the other to use as leverage to keep them there. Draco wondered if Harry was even going to answer, but his hand stilled and the blond waited.

"I suppose you never did hear the true story," the dark-haired boy mused quietly, lifting his shoulder and head to look at Draco, gauging the expression he had on his face. Harry didn't know what to say, really, but he let his mind roll through the thoughts that the question had prompted to come to the forefront of his head.

"No, I don't think so," Draco said in response. He'd heard a lot of things, from adults and students that had heard things traveled through many people who surely changed minor details along the way. "I know I was horrible to you after term on the train," he said; it was as close to apologizing as he could get at the moment. It was in the past, and he had a hard time feeling bad about it, even as he thought about how disturbed Harry might have been over the whole thing, if what he'd heard half of was even true.

"I don't feel sorry for what we did to you and your friends, though," Harry said a bit defensively, thinking back at the multiple hexes that had been hurled at the blond and the two goons that had been behind him. Draco thought back to it too, and grimaced at the memory. It'd taken his mother three weeks to remove all the hexes that had hit his body and he still had a tiny scar under his chin where a nasty tentacle had sprouted at the mix of a Furnunculus Charm and the Jelly-Legs Jinx, which had hit both he and Crabbe.

"And I don't know or can't exactly apologize for what I did during the entire year, but if I'd perhaps known the story from you, I wouldn't have taken the piss out of Diggory's death. I know it was probably horrible to have seen, and I guess it affected you quite a bit, especially at the time," Draco said quietly, almost whispering it into the dim-lighted room. He knew it was an understatement, and he'd never seen anything even close to what Harry had in his life, so he didn't have anything to compare it to other than his imagination and any gruesome details his father's acquaintances chose to share with him at dinner parties.

"I don't suppose you would be sorry, since it was in the past and you didn't know, but you're right: it was one of those experiences that a person definitely does not forget," Harry said, and then continued. "You know, Cedric was only killed because I told him we should both touch the Cup at the same time. If I hadn't tried to act the noble Gryffindor, he might still be alive." He'd opened his eyes when Draco asked the question, and he didn't want to close them to let the image of the memories flash across his eyelids. Maybe he should have let the Sorting Hat place him into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, then he could have used the excuse that Slytherins were better than mere Hufflepuffs or Ravenclaws and Cho and Cedric would probably be married with a gaggle of children and a happy life. _Of course,_ he thought, _if I had been sorted into Slytherin, I might have joined Voldemort when he'd asked, and both of the other students would have been murdered, anyway._

Draco listened, and watched Harry's face as he thought about everything, which was evident on his features. He didn't want to push for details, because from the way the dark-haired boy's eyes changed as he spoke, he knew it wouldn't be a good idea to make him delve too deeply into how each little thing was. Draco already knew that Harry had been taken somewhere when he touched the Cup, a cemetery of some sorts, though he didn't know why, and Voldemort had used him for a spell to return himself to his body. "Not long after that happened," Harry went on, trying to get those thoughts out of his head, "Dumbledore decided I should practice more, especially in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but not just the normal things they teach us in class, the kind that was usually reserved for Aurors in training."

Harry almost smiled, and for that, Draco almost did, too, as he watched the other boy. "I actually got an O on my Defense OWL. The proctor was so impressed I was able to do a fully corporeal Patronus that he made sure I passed simply for that; I bet I could have gotten a T on the written, and he still would have passed me," Harry said with remembered pride, thinking how the proctor almost wet himself with joy, as if he'd never seen a Patronus at all in his life, if not such a beautiful one. He shook his head and the small smile he managed faded, wishing he could have seen his father in his Animagus form, let alone in person, but he didn't want to tell Draco that right now. "Dumbledore and McGonagall are training me, along with Lupin and, however begrudgingly, Snape, to prepare for the day when I finally have to vanquish the Dark Lord," Harry embellished dramatically with a slight roll of his eyes.

"I'm quite looking forward to it, to tell you the truth. Of course, after I get rid of him, I have no idea at all what I'd do with myself. Seeing as how he's been a major pain in my arse since he gave me this bloody scar, I'm not sure I would know what to do without having an ultimate purpose to my life. To top it all off, even, I got to be on center stage, even participate, in Voldemort's fucking rebirth!" The last came out very close to a shout, startling the blond, especially as he'd never heard Harry swear while speaking. Draco had been trying to picture things in his mind as Harry spoke the whole time, attempting to fit things together into a more clear recollection of what had went on that he'd basically been oblivious to. He'd barely noticed the other boy getting louder until he was almost shouting in Draco's face, halfway sitting up in the bed beside the blond.

Draco just watched the other boy as he calmed his breath and slowly settled back onto the bed, lying on his back beside Draco, with the blond's arm still under his head. Draco still wasn't sure what had gone on in the cemetery, but he could imagine the thoughts and images running through Harry's head. The blond almost didn't even realize that he'd shifted his arm until he felt hair brush over his fingers and found that his hand was on Harry's head, smoothing the hair haphazardly away from the other boy's face. "I didn't know there was so much that happened to you; I always thought you were some spoiled and pampered celebrity who got his jollies from all the attention he received," Draco admitted, though he neglected to add that he had almost described himself as well.

He almost shook his head at himself; there he was, about to become a father, on his way with his pregnant boyfriend to the Dark castle of Durmstrang and he couldn't see the point in apologizing for something he had done, said, or not known, in their fourth year. It did occur to him that he'd said he was sorry earlier, but that was for something in the present which he'd had unjust call for pulling a scathing remark, as opposed to petty and childish name calling and teasing a few years ago. It was just as uncalled for then, but at least they could blame it on their rivalry, which had all but seemingly vanished in the past few weeks.

Harry scoffed at the blond, and then continued to tell Draco what else had been happening to him in recent years. He wasn't exactly sure why he was giving Draco enough material for any potential blackmail if this 'trip' didn't end well. There were even some things that he hadn't told to Ron or Hermione: he'd told them about Voldemort's rebirth, but only last year about how he'd felt in regards to Sirius passing on. He supposed there were some things that he just couldn't tell either of them, and he didn't stop feeling bad about keeping things from them until he'd started seeing Draco. "That's not even all," he started again. "Yeah, Voldemort's return was surely at the top of my seriously-bad-days list, but even if it's a big part of my life, I don't feel like it's something that is so personal to me, like other things. Do you remember that horrible professor we had for Defense Against the Dark Arts in fifth year?"

Draco had to nod; how could he forget? He had been part of Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad. He didn't want to bring those old squabbles up between the two of them, so he only kept his response to a nod and listened to Harry. The dark-haired boy seemed to enjoy letting things out, and Draco wouldn't tell him to stop or interrupt him, even if Harry might have gotten quite loud while he was speaking. "Well," Harry said, "I was right ticked off about the way that woman taught the class. And, of course, being the brave Gryffindor I was, I told her loudly and publicly about Voldemort's return and how she couldn't teach a bloody class if it walked up and bit her on her fat arse.

"Unsurprisingly," Harry said lightly, "she'd given me a week's worth of detentions. No problem, I’d thought: I've done worse with Snape." Draco nodded again. He'd never had a bad detention with Snape, not with the professor lording things over him the entire time, but sure, he'd had to clean cauldrons that were rather on the disgusting side. "The thing was she had this quill, which I still don't know the proper name of it. She made me write lines." Harry paused, watching Draco, the blond wondering what could be so horrible about simple lines. "Every time I wrote 'I must not tell lies,' it would cut those same words into the back of my hand." Draco had made a face when he heard the punishment and knew it would have taken a lot of effort to sit through a week of detentions involving self-mutilation. "I never told anyone about it, except for Ron and Hermione."

Harry held out his hand to the blond, who looked at it strangely for a moment before he looked up to Harry again. "I had Hermione try to remove the scars from the back of my hand, but she couldn't do it perfectly. You can still see a faint outline if you look at the right angle to the light." Draco reached up and took Harry's hand, tilting it into the light from the fire and read the slight marks on Harry's skin, showing the blond that everything he'd said had been true, as this was his proof. Draco had believed it when Harry had been talking, but seeing it just made it worse, and he almost wanted to rub his own hand where the marks were on the other boy's. Draco looked back to Harry's face and then brought the hand to his lips and placed a light and gentle kiss over the barely visible scars.

The Gryffindor watched the blond curiously, though with no disgust in his eyes, and Draco lowered both of their hands together to the bed, and there fell a lengthy pause between the two of them as they both lost themselves in their own thoughts. "How do you know you're really pregnant?" broke the silence, and Draco asked it quietly. He didn't think he should have asked, but he wanted to be completely sure that Harry knew the why and how of thinking that he was actually with child. Harry wished he hadn't pulled his hand back so abruptly when the question came, since after a moment he'd realized it would have been a difficult question to ask in the first place.

Harry didn't even know how to properly answer the question, he supposed just like Draco must have felt earlier when he'd asked why it was even possible. It took him a moment to think of what he should actually say. "Erm, well, I didn't even know it was possible at all until about a week ago. Snape, actually, had wanted to talk to me," and then Harry turned to look pointedly at Draco. "It seems he'd found a bit of evidence of our encounter over his desk, did some potion hoodoo on it and it led him to us, then told me about some other things, ending in telling me I was pregnant." Draco was frowning, and he tried not to let his mind wander to that precise 'encounter,' but continued listening to Harry still. "I mean, Snape wouldn't lie about something like that, or even take the piss, would he? I know he hates me, but I don't think he'd make up something like that. Besides," he added, "I've already gained a bit of weight around my middle, and it's quite hard for me to gain any weight at all, and, believe me, I've tried over the past few years. I've always been very thin."

Draco had noticed that when he'd observed Harry over the years that he had filled out very slightly, but had always retained his thin frame. It suited him, Draco thought, and it looked good, if a little emaciated occasionally when the Gryffindor was in a down mood. There was still one more main question that was in the back of his mind, and he had to ask, no matter how much it made him feel like an idiot for even thinking, "Is it mine?" He didn't think Harry had much time to do his homework, let alone think about shagging anyone else in between sessions with Draco, nor did the blond give him any time to think it over before he found the Gryffindor again.

Harry frowned at the question, feeling a bit hurt of, even in a roundabout way, being accused somewhat of sleeping around, even with one other person, at least. He had to admit, though not out loud at the moment, due to the precarious balance between the two of them, that Draco had not been his first choice of partner, but it had happened all the same. If it was only for the occasional shag that brought them together for whatever reason if there even was any other than the sex, Harry still hadn't felt the need to go after anyone else. He knew exactly who the father of this baby was, and he was currently sitting next to him on the bed. "Yes," Harry said, trying not to sound so flat, "it's yours."

He knew he didn't even need to ask, but it was nice to ask, all the same, to hear the answer for sure. There was a strong feeling it was his, but the weight of slight uncertainty was now lifted from his shoulders from knowing Harry wasn't trying to play him in some way. "Once we find Professor Snape, do you know what you want to do about it, or... us?" Draco wasn't sure what Harry had for a plan for the two of them together after this was over. They were getting closer every day, and he had no idea what the plan was going to be in the end. He didn't know whether he wanted to be responsible for another person, especially one so young that would need constant care and attention. "I know my own father wasn't a very good one, even though he never laid a hand on me aside from a scuff upside the head when I misbehaved, but he was never around. There are other problems, as well, like what will your mates say when they find out we're together, and having a baby, for Merlin's sake?"

"What about yours?" Harry countered. Draco knew he had a point there, and he'd probably get more praise for knocking up the Golden Boy, Harry Potter, rather than be despised for sleeping with a Slytherin. "Look," Harry continued before Draco could, "your parents may not have been the best at raising you, and we all know I didn't have the best parental figures as I grew up, so you may or may not be a great father, and there's the possibility that I might not be, either." Harry took another breath, and Draco kept quiet, letting him talk again. "I never knew my parents, but no matter what happens, this child is a part of both of us, and whether you're a great father or not, I really hope that you'll still want to a part in this child's life, too."

He couldn't believe Draco didn't want to have anything to do with the baby, and from the vaguely resigned look on the blond's face, Harry knew he was right. The Slytherin would want something to do with the baby, whether if even for strictly political or lineage reasons; if he didn't want Harry, that was fine, but children needed both their parents, as far as he was concerned. Draco pulled himself back from the conversation and watched the display of emotions flitting across Harry's face. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hoping to calm the rapidly breathing brunet down a bit. Harry sighed, accepting, and laid down beside the blond again, pressing his body close to Draco and closing his eyes. Draco had thought he might want to pull away, or simply tell Draco to go sleep in the chair, but it seemed the other boy had either accepted his apology, or decided it wasn't worth arguing over right now. Draco closed his eyes and sighed audibly, tightening his arm a bit around Harry as he let himself drift off to sleep, not realizing how tired he really was.

@>*~

Harry opened his eyes to pale skin and pale hair, and squinted through the light of the setting sun when he abruptly fell to the bed as his pillow slid out from under him. He closed his eyes when his head hit the real pillow Draco had vacated, and listened as the other boy crossed the room, picked up their bag, and shut the door to the bathroom after he’d crossed the threshold. Harry listened to the soft clinks as Draco set things down, wondering what exactly the Slytherin was doing, but he quickly drifted off to sleep again just as the water started running.

When he awoke again, there was no sound coming from the bathroom, and Harry’s first thought was that perhaps Draco had changed his mind about the situation, not to mention this ridiculous trip, and simply left him there to fend for himself. He tried to quash the bleak track his mind insisted on taking towards the worse, and he was almost startled by the door to the loo opening with a loud click, revealing the blond in question striding towards the bed. Harry sighed, barely audible to himself, or so he thought, as Draco asked him if he was awake. The dark-haired boy mumbled his answer, but he still wished he wouldn’t jump to conclusions, whether he tried to tell his mind he was being irrational or not; it had to be some side effect of the pregnancy, since he wasn’t normally like this, he didn’t think.

He leaned over and reached for his glasses on the side table to the bed, and settled them on his nose, watching the blond bustle around the room cleaning up their things and the wrappers from their snacks last night. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen Draco look less than perfect, to be honest, and he wondered how long the boy usually took at Hogwarts to get ready to simply go to classes. He looked very refreshed anyhow, and he certainly knew how great it felt to empty a full bladder, which he was about to do himself.

Draco stopped staring at the other boy out the corner of his eye when Harry trampled out of bed. He knew Harry had woken up when he left, but he assumed he’d fall asleep in the warm bed until Draco came out of the bathroom. After Harry had put his glasses on, it rather unnerved Draco to have the other boy watching him, unaware of being watched, and Draco quite believed Harry didn’t know he was rubbing his stomach again, either.

The blond wondered how the other boy could be so oblivious to things like that, and sometimes wondered if Harry really knew how close this trip could become to heading straight into the hands of the Dark Lord. It was ludicrous to embark on a hellacious trip out into nowhere, to an area filled with danger, whether by the weather or the wizards, just to talk to Snape now, instead of when the Potions master was safely returned to Hogwarts. It tried Draco’s patience when he put thought into it all, but he attempted once again to wipe the thoughts from his mind as he finished his task, and then sat down to wait for Harry as he put his socks and shoes on.

When Harry trudged out of the loo, he sat down on the bed and laid back. Draco frowned and leaned an elbow back to nudge the other boy, saying, “We need to get going.” He had a vague sense of curiosity as to where he’d landed his elbow, not hard, of course, but as gently as he could while still making his point to draw attention. Harry finished getting his clothes on as Draco did, and they took a few more minutes to gather themselves together before the blond made a pointed look at Harry, and disappeared.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go,” Harry complained to the empty space in front of himself. He took a deep breath and prepared himself as best he could for the trip through wherever Apparating took them. Harry shut his eyes and hoped to whatever deity may be listening that he wouldn’t empty the meager contents of his stomach onto the street beside Draco, or on the blond in any way, either. To his mind, he let come the features of an upturned nose, loose blond strands of hair, the pale skin and grey, deep eyes staring back at him, and suddenly he felt the almost familiar sense of displaced air. He was scared to open his eyes to search for his companion, reaching out to hopefully lean against the outside wall of a building. As soon as he opened his eyes, he was assaulted with the gross sight of watching his own vomit hit the stones of the walkway.

The retching almost brought him down to a knee, but he remained upright, though unsteady, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt rather than saw Draco’s presence as the other boy almost awkwardly patted his back, making a confused but comforting ‘hmm’ at Harry. Draco wasn’t even looking at the other boy as his hand lightly rested on Harry’s back, he hoped in some form of comfort, as he took in the surroundings more closely. They had received a few strange looks, due to Harry’s untimely sick up, but in general it wasn’t that strange for those wizards or witches with a weak tolerance for Apparation.

They were in the middle of a mostly quiet street, only a few occasional wizards and witches ambling through and past the shops lining the walkway. It seemed like a heavily wizarding population existed here, or at least in this section, perhaps much like Diagon Alley in London. This was definitely unlike some of their past destinations where there were Muggles in high supply in quite a few areas they had ventured into. Harry stood up then, and tilted his head towards Draco. “Better?” the blond asked, not able to keep a slight grimace off of his face as he caught sight of the puddle on the street in front of his friend.

Harry frowned slightly but nodded, and straightened up fully. Draco took his hand away quickly when he remembered it was touching the other boy, as it slid further down Harry’s side. He turned and started walking, fast at first, but then he slowed, allowing Harry to catch up to his pace. The dark-haired boy knew they were in search of another room for the night, and perhaps something to eat. He didn’t know about the Slytherin beside him, but Harry was rather hungry himself, and not entirely due to the loss of what he previously had in his stomach.

As they walked, they peeked into shops to gaze at the things that caught their fancy, like Quidditch supplies or the sweets shop, though it held no candle to Honeyduke’s in Hogsmeade. Draco stifled a sigh and chose to derail Harry to the other side of the street when he noticed the other boy looking into a clothing shop that had children’s garments on display in the front. Sometimes, when Draco’s mind wasn’t quick enough to tell him otherwise, he got the ridiculous idea that Harry was picturing the two of them and the child the Gryffindor carried living happily ever after in a little three-bedroom cottage in the country.

Draco frowned at his thoughts as they walked, his arm brushing against Harry’s as they made their way towards the far end of the street, towards the more residential section. It seemed he’d put more thought into this than he had realized, though it was ridiculous they wouldn’t live in Malfoy Manor. Would it be so horrible to live with Harry and be with the child that shared their blood? He spared a glance back to the clothing store before he could stop himself, and saw a witch and a small, walking bundle of clothes following after her. It dawned on the blond that it was her own child. He didn’t particularly think any of the ideas he'd thought of as unpleasant, but the history behind the two of them and the animosity for each other made him wonder how a child would fare between two old rivals.

Draco had a world to see, though he’d glimpsed most of it on vacations and business trips with his father, and there were so many Muggles to scorn, for that matter. He couldn’t keep his entire dislike for Muggles to himself, and just because he’d slept with Harry Potter didn’t mean he was about to change his views of the world, politics, religion, or any other such nonsense debates, let alone have only Harry’s views be taken by their child without a fair representation of other options available. On top of everything, he was only eighteen, getting ready to leave Hogwarts this year. It was too much to think about at one time, and Draco realized he finally must have been feeling the stress of the predicament they’d gotten themselves into. He couldn’t even blame it all on the bloody Gryffindor, since he’d been the one to keep on until something like this arose.

The blond sighed heavily, a slight fog from his breath forming in the air, reminding him of the northern territory they were stuck in for the time being. He let his arm grasp Harry’s and slightly guide him back to the other side of the street where he’d spotted what looked like a reasonable lodging for their stay. Harry stopped to rub his hands together for extra warmth as Draco continued to the clerk behind a large wooden desk. The place had a warm appearance, and Harry felt welcome as he made his way over to the blond conversing with the concierge. Draco finished dropping a small stack of Galleons on the desk as Harry reached the blond’s side. The clerk passed a key over in exchange as he scooped the coins towards himself.

As they turned together, Draco led the way only a foot in front of Harry, though they remained side by side as they made their way to the stairs. The first floor up, Draco found the number corresponding to his key, and opened the door for Harry. After it was shut, Harry heard murmurs of locking charms being put against the door for their extra safe keeping inside their room for the night. The dark-haired boy walked to the window, pulled a curtain aside, and peered down at the back alley behind the hotel. All he saw were a few dustbins and a scraggly old witch wandering along.

Draco made a detour straight to the loo after he’d set their bag down. The water turned on and Harry tuned out from the noises in the bathroom as he took in the décor of the room. There was a fireplace, typical to a wizarding hotel, occupying the center of the far wall; the bed was in the center of the room, and chairs were placed around the room, along with a matching small sofa big enough for two that sat in front of the fire. There were a lot of deep reds and browns, and it made the room quite comfortable and relaxing. The red made him think of his friends back at Hogwarts in the Gryffindor common room.

The hotel room was packed full with twice as many chairs and tables, not to mention three times as many people, but only a couple of those people from his house were on his mind. He hoped Ron and Hermione weren’t too worried, and he was sure they’d figured most of this out already. They had probably gone to the Headmaster, though that might not do too much good for them, but it would be somewhat helpful for reassurance. Surely the Headmaster knew quite a bit about the situation, including their relative whereabouts, even if he wouldn’t disclose it to his friends to prevent them from following on another stupid and dangerous trek. Harry knew he would be in trouble, possibly facing expulsion when he returned; it wasn’t something he looked forward to, but he’d still give anything to be back at school right then.

“This is far from the area my father and I stayed in, but all I remembered was this stretch of shops down here,” Draco explained as he walked from the bathroom, hair looking slightly damp and hands glowing from the presumable scrubbing they received. “I believe we only had a bite of food at a café before carrying on to Greece.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at the sudden conversation that was thrust at him. He didn’t know where to take this, as it was a completely different track than his own thoughts, but he wasn’t opposed to having a conversation. They needed to do that more if they were to make it through this, or anything to come afterwards, for that matter. “Does your family own property there too?” he asked, and the blond nodded in response as he began untying his boots. “Is there anywhere on the planet your family doesn’t own some type of residence or business?”

Harry watched his query process through the Slytherin’s head. “Now that you mention it, we have nothing in the States; too troubled of a place to bother, father said,” Draco answered. Harry smiled; almost chuckling slightly at the fact Draco had actually taken his question very seriously. Draco kicked his boots off his feet and pulled his wand out, casting a spell over the fireplace to start a roaring fire among the logs. Harry blinked, and supposed he could have done that, since he was already a bit chilled. He thought about it and realized he hadn’t been doing much the entire trip, and suddenly felt rather affronted at that, not liking the idea that he wasn’t pulling his weight.

“Would you like to stay here and warm up while I find my bearings before we find somewhere to eat?” the pale boy asked. He was just as hungry as he assumed Harry was, but he needed to settle himself down after the rather rousing frustration he’d visited on himself since he’d pulled Harry away from that shop down on the street.

“Sure,” Harry agreed, chancing taking off his outer cloak and warming up from the fire’s heat that was beginning to permeate the room. He continued looking out the window, this time turning his gaze upwards, to the sky. The sun was nearly set, and it dawned on the dark-haired boy that they had been gradually working themselves into a daytime pattern as opposed to nights. A few stars were visible, and Harry had no idea how long he stood there, but by the time he came out of his thoughts, the sky was dark and he was looking at a full blown map of stars.

He thought one looked a little like Sirius, though he wasn’t sure from his trajectory, or he was simply seeing things. He wasn’t even sure where he’d picked up that word, though he assumed Astronomy class. Harry still missed his godfather, even if they never spent too much time together getting to know each other really in depth. He wondered if Sirius would approve of his relationship. Or friendship, or of his lover, however it was to be perceived; Harry didn’t even know himself yet, but he hoped to find out soon. He hoped his closest parent figure wouldn’t be too mad, either. Lupin might not take his wolfsbane potion for the month just so he could tear Draco limb from limb for what he’d done to the werewolf’s charge.

Harry sometimes wished he wouldn’t let his thoughts wander to reckless and pointless areas. He knew he should stop worrying so much, because it didn’t allow him to make well thought out decisions, either. He also knew he’d never really put too much serious thought into his actions before he undertook them, but at least he usually had Ron, or especially Hermione, to guide him through his flawed plans. Deciding to stop stressing for a while, Harry took a detour in his thoughts.

They must be getting closer to their destination he decided, as he moved from the window closer towards the fire and sat down on the sofa beside the blond, who had let him be while at the window and had occupied the other seat quietly. Neither of them said anything as they watched the fire play behind the grate, but soon Harry couldn’t ignore the persistent rumbling in his empty stomach. “Fancy a bite to eat now?” he asked the blond softly, trying not to disturb their ambiance with each other at the moment. It seemed calm between them, unlike the usual, underlying tension.

“Of course,” Draco replied simply, though without the usual terseness that usually pervaded many of his comments. They both stood, Draco reaching into their bag to pull out the smaller pouch that contained his money. “I saw a few pubs down the street some, and at least one of them smelled somewhat satisfactory, so I suppose we’ll give it a go.”

Harry shook his head slightly in amusement at the blond’s picky nature over such things. He followed the other boy to the door and they left their room. It was only a short walk down the street and straight across to the pub. There were a few tipsy wizards speaking loudly to each other farther down the street at one of the other pubs, but they ran into no one before they reached their destination. Draco opened the door wide, gesturing for Harry to precede him into the building.

Inside there were mostly booths, with a few tables spread throughout that looked like they had legs that were quite on the wobbly side. Draco led them past the tables to a booth with a nice view of the rest of the pub, yet kept them relatively secluded to themselves. It was fairly close to the bar, as well, and it didn’t take long for a waitress to greet them at the table.

Draco frowned as she approached, and Harry wondered if he was trying to discern what the origin was of the small waitress. Her chest barely cleared the top of the table as she handed them a couple of menus. Harry asked for a couple of butterbeers for them both, and she headed back to the bar. They both tuned into their menus for a minute, Draco humming at various things he read. Harry was boggled by the menu since he still hadn’t cast a Translation Spell on himself. He opted to shut his menu and said, “I’ll just have what you’re having.”

Draco raised an eyebrow at the pronouncement, which Harry read as the blond being surprised and pleased. Draco did, in fact, warm to the idea of changing the dark-haired boy’s eating habits into something healthier and filling, especially in his condition, if not altogether epicurean in taste, for the time being. Harry looked over as he saw a dirty blonde head bobbing through the bar patrons, and recognized it as the petite waitress. When she reached the table, Draco set his menu down and she collected them both after setting down their drinks.

The Slytherin spoke for them both, and they settled in with their butterbeers as they waited for their order. It was quiet between them, as they both were caught up watching and listening to the other wizards and witches in the pub. It wasn’t long before their food arrived, and they both tucked in. Harry enjoyed the succulent meat and the dish of potatoes that was in front of him, and the salad was very good as well. When he was finished, he looked over at the blond and eyed up the remaining food on Draco’s plate.

“You’re not going to finish that?” Harry asked, he was still a bit hungry and it was a very good meal, though he hoped he wasn’t crossing any line. They’d been intimate together in quite a few ways, so Harry didn’t really presume that eating something from the other boy’s plate would have bothered him as much as if Crabbe or Goyle had asked. At Draco’s head being shaken and pushing his plate slightly towards the dark-haired boy, Harry pulled it closer and began nibbling on the food there. He had quite a while before Apparating still, so he figured he should try to get something to digest before he was at risk of losing his lunch again.

Harry breathed out happily when he was finished, and sat back to relax as the blond had been doing. Draco had watched him off and on as he ate, but now his attention was averted from him. The waitress came with another set of butterbeers and both of the boys began to ease the tension of their stressful situation out of their minds as they listened to the chatter in the pub. Neither one of them was putting much thought into the fact they were headed straight for danger, but at the moment there wasn’t a need to think about it and ruin a good time.

As Harry looked around the pub, he gazed at the oddities hanging from the wall, the pictures, and the random few Muggle objects displayed as old treasures, which Harry found rather amusing, and he was sure Mr. Weasley would, too. His eyes traveled down the walls and settled on the people around him again. He was almost startled when his eyes met with another man’s. The man was taller, older and sitting at the bar near them, and he didn’t move his eyes from Harry’s when the younger boy realized he was being watched and had been for probably quite a while.

The man gestured for Harry to join him at the bar, and Harry turned his head to look at Draco, who was reading the label on his butterbeer, looking bored out of his mind but trying to be polite about it. He turned back to the bloke at the bar, who began nodding at Harry to come over. Harry frowned and shook his head. The man kept on making a show of wanting Harry to come up to the bar, putting his hands together in a pleading fashion. Harry sighed and pointedly looked back to the table, trying to ignore the man, and faced Draco, hoping perhaps the other boy would start a conversation.

Harry watched Draco pick up his napkin and begin folding it into little shapes, strategically ripping parts to make patterns with a frown on his face the entire time. The Gryffindor pulled his eyebrows together in curiosity and was about to ask, but the annoying sensation of being watched made him turn his head slightly to glance at the strange man one more time. The man smiled when Harry looked at him again, and barely before Harry had a chance to turn his head back to Draco, unnerved, he felt the blond move in next to him from the other side of the seat.

The dark-haired boy turned to smile as he felt Draco’s hand settle on the back of his neck gently, yet it suddenly pulled him into a fiery kiss that lasted long enough to take Harry’s breath away. Breaking for air, Harry felt Draco slide his tongue along Harry’s lips, teasing before they were opened willingly for more. They kissed for what seemed like a long time to Harry, twisted on the seat to face the blond, but he knew it was only a few minutes before they separated themselves. Harry didn’t open his eyes for a few seconds, breathing deeply.

When Harry opened his eyes, Draco’s eyes were focused somewhere behind Harry, but they flickered back to Harry’s and lost the irritation they had held only a second ago. With a nudge to the thigh, Harry moved to stand up, finding his hand grasped in Draco’s while the other boy dug in his pocket, dropping a few galleons on the table without preamble. In a blur of motion, the man threw one last leer towards Harry, behind Draco’s back, and before Harry knew it, they were halfway down the street and back at their room in the hotel.

He let himself be dragged back to the hotel, not sure what had come over his companion to be so aggressive and haul him around like a sack of potatoes. He had a good idea from what he’d witnessed so far, but he was expecting anything, knowing Draco. Once they got to the door of the hotel, Draco opened the door and pulled Harry through before it closed behind them. Draco slowed down a wee bit until they got to the lift, pressing the button and waiting for the car impatiently. Harry was waiting for him to start tapping his foot and crossing his arms, but he settled for the dramatic sigh the blond tried to utter quietly.

As it were, Draco still had a hold on Harry’s hand, rather on the firm side; it wasn’t painful, but he wouldn’t try moving his wrist for fear of a strain, and if he tried to bolt, he figured he’d end up with a dislocated shoulder for his troubles. The doors to the lift finally opened and Draco let go of Harry’s hand to enter, and the dark-haired boy followed quickly, as if his hand were still being held. Draco waited just until the doors had closed behind them and the floor lurched as the lift began to rise before he pushed Harry against the closest wall and began kissing him again, quite gently to belie his outward emotional appearance. Harry was caught off guard and it took him a moment before returning the kiss. Just as he closed his eyes to enjoy it, considering it was a rare occurrence between them, Draco pulled away as the lift stopped. He was halfway down the hall with his wand out by the time Harry stepped into the hall and hurried after the blond.

With the door unwarded, Draco nudged Harry through the threshold and towards the bed as he came in afterwards and spelled the door again quickly before turning his wand to his boots to get them off quickly. Harry was still a bit dumbfounded, but he knew where this was going, at least, and he was just being slow as he took his cloak off. Draco walked towards him, eyes staring intently into Harry’s. He slipped his hands under the hem of the Gryffindor’s shirt, pulled it up and over Harry’s head before stepping in close enough for their entire bodies to brush against each other.

Draco pressed him backwards until his legs hit the bed, and the blond lifted a knee and settled it on the bed, gently pushing Harry back further to sit on the bed and move back as Draco advanced. The blond leaned down and gave Harry another quick kiss before moving down to his neck, sucking and biting gently until a small red mark bloomed on the tender skin. Harry’s breathing deepened and he gasped as he was marked, feeling himself harden at the attention to the sensitive spot. His brain spared a moment to wonder what the blond was playing at, acting possessive in the pub, but it was cut short when Draco got up and stripped himself of his clothes in what seemed like the blink of an eye, although Harry’s weren’t even open.

The blond didn’t care where his clothes landed as he hurried to grab something from their bag, dropping it on the bed, and began pulling Harry’s pants down his legs. Harry felt something cold hit the bed and roll against his side, and he twisted away from it as his pants were pulled down farther and farther until he was left just wearing his socks as he lay on the bed. Suddenly, Draco was right back where he left off, kissing Harry just as he was before. Harry relaxed after Draco’s warm body pressed against his again after the cool air of the room and the warmth of his pants left him, and he felt himself enjoying the kisses more and more.

The Slytherin boy began sucking at Harry’s lips, placing gentle nibbles here and there, with a few outright bites before he remembered the boy beneath him didn’t take too kindly to it. Just as Draco’s mind caught up with this, he felt Harry’s hands settle on his shoulders, which made him tense for a moment, but he understood the pressure behind why they were pushing down on him. He continued with his kisses, just kisses and sucking now, and he knew he didn’t want it to stop. Draco moved forward on his knees more, and used them to steady his body as he lifted his arms from either side of Harry’s head to grab the bottle of lubricant with one hand and pour some into the other.  
He sat up for a moment on his knees and used his clean hand to lean on as he shifted one knee from Harry’s side to between his legs, gently pushing them further apart. Draco moved his hand, slick with lubricant, down between Harry’s legs as well, and began massaging the area he had in mind. The Gryffindor was so engrossed with the entire process and left flushed and panting from the kisses that he barely noticed Draco’s movements until he felt the blond’s hand. He startled slightly, and was about to verbally protest when Draco leaned down to kiss him again, just as he started to rub around his entrance. Harry was a bit affronted by the fact that Draco had not bothered to ask permission, but it wasn’t the point that Harry would have said yes, but the point that Draco simply hadn’t asked.

Harry tried to twist his head to dislodge his lips from the kiss he didn’t want to end, and his movement simply made Draco press harder against his lips, and push a finger inside of Harry. Harry moaned into Draco’s mouth, letting Draco suck at his lips while he gasped for air as another finger, and another, was pressed inside of his hole, stretching him open for what was to come next. It was no use trying to pull back anymore, or trying to resist. Draco was the larger of the two of them, even though not by much, and he kept Harry pinned down as he removed his slicked hand from between Harry’s legs to his own cock. He didn’t want to hurt the other boy, and he pushed in slowly at first.

A part of him knew this was out of anger, and instead of taking it out on Harry, like he was loathe to admit to himself that he once would have done just that simply for the sake of it, he forced himself to stop for a moment and let the dark-haired boy get used to the thickness inside of him. Draco listened to Harry gasp, and it only made his cock twitch, and he couldn’t hold out for long before he pushed himself all the way inside, to completely sheathe himself inside the other boy’s body. Harry gasped even louder and it turned into a moan as Draco pulled back out and thrust himself in again. It burned, but Harry felt too good to complain.

After a minute of that, Harry wanted more, and he pulled the blond down to kiss him again. It excited Draco even more, and he started to thrust faster while forgetting not to nibble, and forgetting not to bite. Harry gasped, but this time it wasn’t so much in pleasure. He could see where this was going, but he decided he wasn’t going to let it be entirely unsatisfactory, and he might as well enjoy it now and ask what the hell was going on afterwards. Draco almost paused when he felt Harry loosen around him, and he thought he felt the other boy push gently at him, but when he pushed his cock back inside, he could barely remember the moment before, and he focused everything on the pleasure he felt.

He felt he’d worked Harry enough with his cock that they could do with a bit more fun, and Draco pulled back and angled his hips, hoping to aim straight for Harry’s prostate. The blond hit his mark as he felt Harry’s arse tighten around him, and the Gryffindor’s back arched, pressing them together even closer. Draco did it again, making Harry moan loudly, before resuming his thrusting, but now even harder and deeper, and occasionally tilting his hips unexpectedly and hitting that sensitive little gland again and again. Harry found strength to wrap his legs around the blond, trying to slow or at least lessen the hard impact of the thrusts, but it didn’t do much good. He was experiencing a lot of pleasure, but he was also in pain, and for the most part, he couldn’t distinguish the two, but he knew he would rather this be different than what it had become.

Draco continued his assault, making Harry gasp and moan with every powerful stroke, which only fueled the fire in the blond even more, and he began putting his entire body into his thrusts. The blond had leaned up on his elbows, holding his head above Harry’s shoulder, but he couldn’t go much further with Harry’s arms holding him down against the Gryffindor’s chest. They were both slick with sweat, and it made Harry’s cock rub between them easily, creating pleasure for the dark-haired boy to go with the overwhelming sensations from other areas of his body. Every so often, between bouts of extremely hard thrusts and grinds of his hips, Draco would turn his head and kiss at Harry’s throat and jaw, biting there, too, and Harry knew the blond was getting close to his finish.

His thrusts were becoming erratic, and he struggled against his own weight and Harry’s arms to shift his body to lean on one elbow while he moved a hand to Harry’s cock. He grasped it hard, making Harry moan at the first touch. Draco began jerking his hand over Harry’s cock as best as he could to keep in time with his own random thrusts of his cock into Harry’s arse. Harry felt his hole tighten, and the little moan he heard escape Draco’s mouth right beside his ear made him explode all over the blond’s hand. Draco let go of Harry’s cock and began pounding into the boy under him, panting as he went. Harry tried to focus on the blond’s face, but there was hair in the way, and all he could see was Draco’s eyes, shut tight and his mouth open, lips glistening with saliva as he gasped as Harry’s muscles squeezed down around his cock.

With one more thrust deep inside of Harry, Draco’s release came, and he lay back down against Harry while his body jerked with the effort. He tried to control his breathing as he thrust a few more times, much more relaxed and slowly before he pulled out and found himself tumbled over, almost over the side of the bed too, before he had even opened his eyes. Harry sat up immediately, not caring about the come spilling down his thighs, and turned to look down at Draco, who hadn’t moved from where he’d landed on his back. “You selfish, uncaring, manipulative bastard,” Harry spat at him, shaking his head. His eyes spoke what he couldn’t find the words for, but Draco knew none of them were good.

He looked up at Harry, wondering what he should say, but Harry spoke again, and the words that came out were nearly exactly those that Draco had been thinking, though he never would have dared say them out loud. “You’re just like your father,” Harry said down to him. It enraged Draco more than he would have thought to hear it coming from Harry, despite whether he was thinking it himself or not, and he sat up abruptly, only to come face to palm, and it stung. It made Draco gasp in a shocked breath, though it also served to take the words right out of him that would have formed a spiteful retort.

Harry leaned down to grab at his underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor, pulling them on almost forceful enough to rip the material. Draco was startled out of his shock, and stood up in front of Harry, shouting, “What the bloody hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Harry stood and turned his back to Draco as he started pulling his pants back on. Draco waited until Harry had both legs in and was about to do them up before he walked around the other boy, and grasped his forearm to get his attention, as Harry was trying to resolutely ignore him. “Will you please stop?” Draco almost yelled at the stubborn Gryffindor.

“Let … go.” Harry said quietly, enunciating both words slowly through clenched teeth.

“No,” was Draco’s reply, and it only made Harry glare harder at him, but he stopped struggling. He knew if Draco really meant it, he’d be willing to enforce it, but after a moment of pause, Draco simply let go. “I thought you enjoyed yourself,” Draco said to him, almost posed as a question. He didn’t want to think he had misread the other boy’s pleasure; he didn’t want a repeat of the other mishaps during sex that had happened between them; he doubted the third time would’ve been a charm, if that had been the case.

Harry took a deep breath to try and calm down before he spoke. “I would have, if you hadn’t treated me like a whore to do with as you please. I had enough of that shite back at Hogwarts. I thought we’d gotten past this sudden need of yours to just shag without asking, or haven’t we?” He had started out indignant, but found it hard to keep that tone in his voice as he came to the end, when he sounded quite dejected.

Draco sighed as he closed his eyes, hearing exactly how Harry felt in the Gryffindor’s voice. Harry moved to sit on the bed, slouching over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Look,” Draco started, sitting down beside the other boy. He gave a gesture, but didn’t continue, and sighed again before he spoke. “I don’t know what happened,” he confessed, “but I had this overwhelming urge to make sure you knew who you were with.”

Harry scoffed at the excuse. He supposed it made sense in a way, and he knew Draco was a bit possessive, so it fit, but it was still not the best thing to hear. “Draco, I’m not your property, and I don’t even recall us ever deciding to be a couple.” He let that sink in, looking across to the blond as he paused. “If this was your way of trying to claim me for the sake of that old bloke in the pub who wanted in my pants, you shouldn’t have bothered. You know I wasn’t interested in him, although right now I’m not too keen on you, either.”

Draco looked to the floor, nodding his understanding. Harry sighed and stood up, pacing a bit beside the bed in front of Draco. The blond lifted his head to watch Harry walk back and forth before standing up himself and placing himself in the Gryffindor’s way. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes on Harry’s and Harry took a silent, deep breath, but only looked back at the blond, whose eyes darted back and forth looking at the dark-haired boy, trying to find what was going on in the Gryffindor’s mind. “Am I really as bad as him?”

“No,” Harry answered right away, not needing explanation for who Draco had meant. “I was just angry. I mean, if we’re going to make it to Snape, we need to be in this together, and it’s not going to help if either of us is flying off the handle and going nutters over things.”

“I’m sorry,” Draco said softly, a slight crease on his forehead formed, and before Harry could think about what would have been crossing the blond’s mind, he felt his hands picked up in Draco’s and held gently between their bodies.

“I am too,” Harry whispered back, sighing heavily. He knew he couldn’t place all the blame on Draco, because he was a part in all of this just as much as the other boy was. He knew Draco meant what he was saying, or at least he made a very convincing act of it. Draco gave him a firm look and then let go of Harry’s hands, moving back to the bed to collect his clothes. “I’ll go clean up,” Harry said, realizing that Draco was still naked, and becoming aware of the wetness all over his own legs.

Draco nodded, not looking up, and Harry went to the bathroom. When he returned, Draco was in the bed already, sitting up and waiting for Harry. He pulled back the blanket on the opposite side in a gesture for Harry to join him. “I’m tired. We still have a ways to go before we reach Durmstrang. Let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

With that truce called, Harry nodded his agreement and carefully and only a bit cautiously crawled under the blanket beside Draco. Draco slid down to lay on his back, and was a bit surprised when Harry was right by his side, assuming their usual sleeping positions. He wasn’t sure whether the dark-haired boy would even want to be in the same bed, but he supposed his apology and a nice gesture went a lot farther than he had expected. Harry let out a breath as he relaxed in Draco’s arms. The Slytherin picked up the closest wand he could find and extinguished the lights with a word. They both lay there quietly, listening to the faint sounds of wind outside and each other’s breathing, lost in their own thoughts before finally being taken by sleep.

@>*~


	9. Chapter 9

Ron and Hermione made their way down the hall leading to the gargoyle statue standing guard at the entrance to Professor Dumbledore’s office. After they had become more intimate with one another, they had taken to holding hands almost everywhere they went, with exception to carrying books and during such arbitrary indulgences as eating and going to the loo alone. The reason for their current venture to the Headmaster’s office was what Professor Lupin had revealed to them after their last Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The Headmaster finally had some new information, which he had most likely had for a while, but now he had deemed it necessary for two thirds of his favorite student trio to be let into the light on a few matters. They stood beside the statue, waiting for Lupin.

“Do you see him yet?” Ron asked, meaning the professor, as he turned back towards Hermione. He had an impatient look on his face, but it faded as soon as he looked into her eyes, and he reached out for her hand, squeezing it in his a moment. She smiled at the feeling, and then her head pivoted when footsteps could be heard coming up the nearby stairs.

“I’m sure that’s him now,” she said, a hopeful tone in her voice. True enough, the steps became louder and soon Professor Lupin was in view, hurrying down the hall towards them. They weren’t used to him moving at such a brisk pace, and Hermione now frowned at the slight grimace on her teacher’s face at the old pains he must be feeling due to his haste. He smiled at them tightly before taking a breath and facing the statue.

“Peppermint,” he spoke, and the statue began to move, exposing the staircase to the Headmaster’s office. “Sorry I was a bit late; had a run-in with Peeves. I had a terrible time trying to get rid of him; after several stern warnings, my last resort was to immobilize him,” he explained as he took steps up the stairs to the doors to the office.

Ron snickered at the image of Peeves in his mind. He disliked the poltergeist as much as anyone else, but he had to admit the ghost did have annoyance down to a science. The three of them stood on the landing in front of the doors, and Lupin knocked lightly, waiting for a response of some kind from the old wizard. The latch clicked open, and Lupin pushed the door open fully, stopping to gesture the two teens in before him. They passed through and took the familiar seats in front of the large desk, never letting go of each other’s hands the whole time. Ron looked over and smiled at Hermione when he quietly moved his chair closer to hers as they waited a moment for the Headmaster.

Behind them, Lupin smiled and shook his head as Dumbledore came down the stairs in his office towards the desk. Ron and Hermione looked to him and he smiled with that knowledgeable twinkle in his eyes at the sight of the two of them; he had been young once himself, after all. All attention was on the Headmaster now, though, the importance of the situation coming to the forefront. Sitting behind his desk, Dumbledore laid his hands over the book and regarded the three in front of him as he spoke. “A day ago, I received an owl from Professor Snape, stating that he had, indeed, received your message, Remus. Well done.”

“Thank you, sir,” Remus nodded. “I feared it wouldn’t be easy, and I was right.”

“I understand,” the older man nodded back, still in praise of Remus’ efforts. “The process is rather difficult and painful. I myself had the misfortune to try it when I was a lad,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head vaguely. “Severus also mentioned that Voldemort believes that young Harry has been weakened and is, at this moment, plotting the boy’s downfall.” Ron had been getting impatient again, a frown creasing his face, his grip on Hermione’s hand slowly becoming tighter, though she sighed and held her tongue. “We are not quite certain of Harry’s exact whereabouts, but there is a steady path they seem to be following through Russia, on their way towards the Durmstrang Institute.”

“What!?” Ron screamed, his chair jerking back at his abrupt movement to stand, letting go of Hermione’s hand to gesture wildly with both hands at the Headmaster in front of him. “We have to warn him!” The Gryffindor was turning an unhealthy shade of red as his anger and worry increased as each second passed, radiating outwards from his person. “And, hang on, what do you mean he’s ‘weakened’? What does that mean?” Hermione’s concern was clearly showing on her face, but she kept a more calm presence, trying to wait for more information instead of reacting as her boyfriend was currently doing. She tried pulling him back down to his seat, and he reluctantly sat down again, still glowering as he waited for an answer.

“Mr. Weasley,” Dumbledore began slowly, reminding the boy of his place, which was not a place for his temper at the time being. “Harry is quite safe and has a capable companion until Professor Snape can take action for their wellbeing.” Dumbledore looked down over his glasses at the red-haired boy, watching him gradually return to his normal color.

Ron sighed, holding in the same old words they’d heard many times before regarding the Slytherin boy. “So, Malfoy is still with Harry, then?” Hermione asked, glad Ron had calmed down and was ready to resume the conversation. It worried her that Malfoy was seemingly the only one Harry had to rely on for the time being, according to Dumbledore, but she supposed it was better than nothing, if it meant Harry remained in one piece. She couldn’t believe Dumbledore had no one else watching over Harry, or even searching for him in order to protect him. Harry could hold his own, but if he really was weakened, he’d need at least some help against the Dark Lord.

Dumbledore began nodding before he spoke, “Yes, Draco remains with Harry, for our sake. As for why Voldemort believes Harry to be in a vulnerable state, I am not yet at liberty to say. Professor Snape is close to the matter at hand, and will be doing his best to watch out for any stray Hogwarts students that come across his path.” The Headmaster tilted his head and gave a small smile for reassurance, though it didn’t help much. “I am afraid it is up to Harry to share any more personal information with you. I am sorry,” he said genuinely, rising from his seat while using a hand to motion Hermione and Ron towards the door, “but that is all I can tell you right now.” Before either of the students could voice any displeasure at the situation, though it may not do any good, they felt a hand on their shoulders, and turned to Professor Lupin, who was guiding them back from the desk.

They certainly weren’t happy with the scant bit of news they’d received, but there was nothing they could do about it. “Remus, my boy,” the Headmaster called as Ron and Hermione had crossed the threshold, “stay back a moment, will you?” All three heads turned towards Dumbledore at the request, but Lupin smiled at them and gave them a playful little push out of the doorway. Ron grinned, but it quickly faded as the door was closed behind them and they made the descent down the stairs to the hall.

“Sir?” Remus questioned, letting the Headmaster take his seat before taking Hermione’s vacant chair for himself. He waited almost impatiently to hear what the old man had to say, and he wasn’t normally an impatient person.

Dumbledore let out a breath, a slight telling of his tiredness over all the years he’d put his heart into the school and the whole of the wizarding world to protect things that most simply let slip from their minds. Picking up his wand, Albus waved it towards the door, erecting a Silencing Charm around the room, particularly the door, in order to prevent certain Gryffindors from letting their curiosity get the best of them and make their way back up the stairs. He had felt confident in deterring even these particular students for the time being, but there was no sense in underestimating anyone. “Remus, what I am about to tell you cannot leave this room.”

Lupin nodded, sitting straighter in his chair. His mind reeled, from ludicrous to mundane ideas, wondering what on earth Albus was going to say to him. Dumbledore cleared his throat lightly and leaned back in his chair. “Have you determined the nature of young Harry’s condition?” Remus hadn’t been expecting a question, and realized that his heart had been beating a little bit faster in anticipation. He shook his head, as much to clear it of nonsense as to respond to the Headmaster. “He is with child.”

One moment of silence, followed by another, and another, Lupin’s brows slowly pulling together in confusion. He almost hoped he had heard wrong. Therefore, he decided to ask again. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

Dumbledore nodded solemnly, saying, “Nearly three weeks, I believe.”

Remus closed his mouth, not realizing he had even opened it slightly. Of all the things he had thought might be wrong with Harry, this wasn’t high up on his list. It hadn’t even been on the list, and wouldn’t have been even if there actually had been a list. He was certainly aware of the possibility, but he had been thinking along the lines of a potion of sorts, or a poison, or curse, or anything that could be cured. What was worse, he felt he had failed Harry as a parental figure by not warning the boy of the possibility, as he doubted anyone else had.

Remus let himself wonder who the father was, even though his mind didn’t have much room for an answer that wasn’t Draco Malfoy. Not the least of the worries that idea presented was whether the Slytherin would stick around to be a part of the child’s life. It was without a doubt that Harry would keep the child, and lavish on it all the love he never received himself, and be loved unconditionally in return, but he didn’t strike Remus as the type to want to do it by himself.

It seemed in the time it took him to blink, his thoughts had run a marathon, and he saw the Headmaster sitting in front of him, cleaning his half-moon spectacles on the cuff of his sleeve. Albus noticed his professor was ready to move on, having all of his attention once again focused on the conversation at hand, and readied himself to field inquiries as he placed his spectacles above his long, crooked nose again.

“Albus, can you tell me why Harry is heading towards Durmstrang?” Remus was quite wound up, not only as a part of the solution to this situation, but as someone who had a bigger stake in Harry’s life and wasn’t only professionally responsible for the boy. He felt it rude to hear that thought in his mind, the possessive tone to it, but he felt he was one of the closest people to Harry, and certainly the adult responsible for a great deal of the Gryffindor’s life for as long as Harry chose him to be. “Of all people, why is Harry risking not only his own life, if what you say is correct, to travel in his … condition,” Remus was still having a bit of trouble grasping the reality, “to see Severus? He’s not exactly Harry’s favorite person.”

“Indeed, Remus, he is not,” Albus agreed, and continued seriously, “but Harry is not of entirely sound mind at the moment. He is becoming confused, centering his focus solely on the child. Under normal circumstances, that would not be out of the ordinary, but once the two boys left Hogwarts, these were no longer normal circumstances, as you well know.”

“What does Malfoy have to do with this?” Remus asked, a harsh tone coming to his question. Besides the obvious, which he didn’t particularly want to contemplate how or why it came to be the catalyst of the situation at hand, he wanted to know what part the blond played in this game. He had never had a reason to trust any Malfoy, not even by giving them the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps the young Slytherin wasn’t as corrupted as many believed him to be; Remus resolved not to judge anything until he heard from Harry on the issue.

“The child between them carries within its blood the same protection as the Dursleys’, the blood of Lily Potter. It is dull, yes, but it is still there. As long as Draco remains with Harry, he is better off than being alone. Draco’s blood is now family in the eyes of Lily’s protection,” Dumbledore explained, “and that is doing more to protect Harry than any of us can right now.”

“What should we do, Headmaster?” Remus sighed, trying to relax, sitting back in the chair. There wasn’t much they could do. Unaware of their exact location, there was no way to interrupt their travel, except by chance. He was sure Dumbledore would have someone searching for Harry, for there was hope for chance in any situation. There was a part in the back of his mind that was a bit upset that Harry couldn’t have come to him for help in this, or any, situation. Wasn’t he good enough to give the boy advice? Could he have done something that could have avoided this whole mess?

“We shall do what we have been, Professor Lupin,” Dumbledore said, sitting up straighter, coming back to his usual commanding self, the one who inspired all in the Order to follow and be confident when times were tough. “We must continue fighting for the good of the wizarding world. I have confidence in Severus and young Mr. Malfoy.”

“So you trust him, then?” Remus wasn’t sure he would like Dumbledore’s answer, and he had a feeling that the Headmaster really didn’t know what should be done. Lupin just hoped everything would turn out all right in the end, for everyone involved.

Dumbledore took a moment before replying, looking back at Remus’ unsure expression. “For that matter, you must place your trust in me. We must do what we must.”

@>*~

It was late afternoon by the time either of the boys woke up, and it appeared that they'd changed positions in the middle of the night. Harry lay there after he opened his eyes, enjoying the warm body pressed to his back. It was a bit early to get going, as they wanted to travel as much as they could during the evening, so Harry let himself try and drift back to sleep to bide the time until Draco woke, at least. He wondered if the soft snores would lull him back to sleep, and he smiled at the thought. He doubted Draco would take kindly to that bit of information and surely deny it, so Harry decided to keep that little tidbit to himself. Draco's arm was draped over Harry's side, a weight the dark-haired boy had no problem with; it was a comforting weight, and made him feel a little more safe. Waking up next to someone was something Harry could definitely do, even if it was Draco Malfoy.

It must have been only a few minutes, but it could have been an hour, before Draco finally stirred from his sleep. Harry wondered whether he should pretend to be asleep again, but he wanted to get the next Apparation over and done with so they could move on. He knew both of them were getting anxious the closer they got, even if Draco didn't show it. Harry knew he was, and the suspense was killing him. They had no idea what they were getting into, and it was hard to prepare for anything and everything that could happen.

Draco woke up and the first thought was to jerk his arm back off of Harry, but once he settled down, he decided not to. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it, and Harry didn't mind. The Slytherin knew Harry wasn't asleep, so he felt he might as well get up and start the day, even if it was half over. He hadn't expected to wake up - he had to say it — cuddled against Harry. Not an awful experience, but just unexpected. Draco slowly took his arm back, rolled to his back and gave a full body stretch before sitting up. Harry followed suit, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and yawning before he got up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The blond picked up the strap on their bag and carried it with him on his way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. Harry sat on the bed, still in only his underwear as he waited to take his own shower.

After Draco was finished, he dried off and got dressed, then brushed his hair. It'd be left to fall where it may, albeit Draco had a hand in directing; it'd been that way since this ludicrous journey began, since his first thought upon being hauled out of bed by a crazed Gryffindor hadn't been to grab his styling products. Draco took one last look at himself and exited to the main room, pausing at the sight of Harry in nothing but his boxers. "What are you doing?" Draco asked, stopped in his tracks for a moment, wondering if Harry wanted sex. He snapped out of it and walked back to the bed to put their things into the bag again, trying to not let this be as awkward as it had started out.

Harry looked up from the book he'd been flipping through at Draco's question. He'd found it in the nightstand drawer beside the bed, but he shut it and stood up before answering. "I was waiting for you to finish so I could get a turn," he said casually. He thought Draco had sounded a bit affronted, and he couldn't see the cause for it. "Why?"

"No reason."

Harry sighed and gathered his clothes to take with him. He was going to come out of the bathroom to get dressed, figuring it wouldn't be a problem, but he changed his mind. He didn't think Draco would have minded, since they were both blokes, and had slept together, and not only that, Harry was pregnant. Come to think of it, though, that last reason could be why Draco had reacted the way he had. Harry didn't think it was a big deal, but maybe he was wrong.

When the door shut behind Harry, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He needed to quit assuming things he had no right to assume, or at least do it and keep his mouth shut until he knew better. If he kept it up, he wasn't sure he and Harry would even be able to live together, wherever it may be, and he couldn't believe he had actually considered that a possibility. He had come to realize that he did hope they could continue their relationship if they weren't killed by the Dark Lord. He still had a tough time thinking about the baby: he still wasn't sure how he felt about being a father so soon. No matter how much they could talk about it; or how many nights he lay there in bed contemplating his impending fatherhood, it still felt like it was all one big dream.

If they did make it out of this alive, he doubted if they could put their animosity and differences aside enough to raise their child. Or would having a baby actually make them friends? Or make them fall in love, if there was such a thing. Most times, even now, they couldn't go more than five minutes without something happening, snapping at each other or wanting to punch the other out over some stupid misunderstanding or another. Draco kicked out at a leg of the bed, which didn't do much but give him a sore toe.

Harry scrubbed at his skin angrily, not wanting to believe Draco was being such a prat right now. What would he have done had Harry been completely starkers? Jumped him, blushed, or thrown a sheet over him? Harry sighed at himself for being so stupid. It wasn't like they were one big happy family, or even were happy to be together in the same room for too long. He couldn't imagine being married, and not even just being friends with benefits; they couldn't even hang out and do something casual without something getting in the way of it being a good time.

He wished it had been Ron who had gotten him pregnant, but without actually having to have sex with the redhead. It would have been weird for a few weeks, and maybe they would have stopped talking to each other for most of that time, but in the end, after 'I was an idiot' apologies had been made, they would still be best mates and be able to spend time together. Harry sighed sadly as he rinsed the soap off of his body. He and Draco barely tolerated each other, but shagged almost all the time. What type of relationship was that? He doubted it would last the way it was, let alone develop into something much more than it was now. He let the water run over his face and he let out another breath before turning the water off.

When Harry came out, he was dried and dressed, hair damp and untidy around his head. Draco looked up from a chair sat beside the fireplace. He felt like kicking himself hard in the arse for once again being a complete shit to Harry. He looked at the other boy, and he did like what he saw, despite the mess of hair. He really needed to do something with that, barring simply taking him to a stylist, and maybe they could get the brunet's hair to behave. Harry looked around the room, taking inventory. Draco had cleaned up everything already. Harry took his glasses off and cleaned a smudge before putting them back onto his face. "I'm ready when you are," he said.

Draco nodded, not saying anything as he picked up their bag and stood, hefting it over his shoulder in the process. The two of them walked out the door and stepped out into the hall, making their way to the front desk in the continued silence. Draco paid for their stay; the first things he'd said since Harry went to shower were said to the concierge, and they walked out of the building and onto the street.

It must have been past five in the afternoon by the time they made their way down the street, out of the town and into a fairly secluded area from which to Apparate. Draco closed his eyes and brought up the images he needed of their next destination before he disappeared with a pop. Harry sighed after Draco had gone, knowing that once he joined Draco he'd vomit. Picturing the blond in his mind, Harry Disapparated, appearing a few moments later, a couple of feet from Draco. He bent over and heaved, just like he'd been dreading. They hadn't eaten anything before leaving, so there wasn't much coming up, but that didn't make it any more pleasant, and he was really getting tired of being sick every day.

He stood there, doubled over, for a few moments after he was finished, just to make sure. He straightened up, wiping his mouth. "I hate doing that," he said to the blond.

Draco nodded again, a sympathetic look gracing his face before they headed out into the street ahead of them where they could hear voices. Harry looked around at the village they were in. There weren't a lot of shops, but the people were all wizards judging from how they were dressed. He followed after Draco, wondering where the other boy was headed, but he didn't say anything. He watched the roads as they became dirt, and the foliage thickened all around them as they walked further and further. Harry had a split-second moment of panic, thinking Draco was leading him into an ambush. Harry kicked Draco's leg, not realizing the blond had stopped, and Draco turned to give him a look.

Harry was about to ask what they were doing out in the middle of nowhere, wondering if Draco had wanted to camp out here for the night. He didn't think it'd be such a bad idea, but they might not think so when they woke up sore and tired the next day. Draco started moving again, and sat down on a fallen log. "Come sit next to me," was all he said. Harry raised an eyebrow at the other boy before complying. He sat beside the blond and fell into a companionable silence until Harry's curiosity got the better of him.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Not that I mind the company or the break, but what exactly are we doing?"

Draco didn't answer him right away and instead only pointed towards the mountains in the distance. The sun was just beginning to set, slowly casting the area in shades of orange. It was very beautiful, but Harry had to wonder what prompted this from the Slytherin boy. Perhaps this was his way of apologizing for earlier, or he might want to try another way of getting into Harry's pants. Harry turned to look at Draco, but the other boy's attention was focused on the sunset. They were silent, and the area slowly got a bit darker, and more sounds came from the trees and bushes around them. They were in quite a nice little spot, and as Harry thought about it, he really didn't mind sitting with Draco. Neither one of them really felt like talking or moving as they watched the sun finish its descent.

"You were my first," Harry said quietly to the other boy. His gaze remained forward, but he could see Draco turn and look at him, surprised at the statement.

Draco didn't know what to say, and he looked back at the mountains, opened his mouth, shut it. It had never really dawned on him that he'd taken Harry's virginity, but now that he thought about it, it didn't leave him with a good feeling. He didn't know if it made it worse or not that they were still together now, instead of their first time together happening the way it did and then him leaving. Draco still didn't feel proud of himself for taking something like that from Harry. He had to admit they were getting into some sort of a relationship now, and that Draco wanted it to happen, nonetheless. He knew he was feeling more and more protective of Harry now, though he didn't want to think about the child Harry was carrying, but he knew that the baby was included in that feeling, too.

Deciding to take advantage of Draco's flabbergasted state, Harry said, "I wasn't yours."

"No," Draco said. Silence followed, and they sat there for Merlin knew how long, but it was only a few minutes.

"Who was it?"

Draco hoped he hadn't quite heard Harry correctly. He wished this conversation wasn't so fraught with tension. Who would have known Harry hadn't been with anyone else? _He's the bloody Boy Who Lived; surely he'd have his pick of either boy or girl._ As he thought about it, though, Draco could see why: it was Harry, after all, savior of the world or not, it was still Harry. Draco felt as if he owed it to Harry to tell him whatever he wanted right now. It'd be the least he could do for basically raping him, despite how it turned out. And how the hell had it turned out? They had become friends, hadn't they? It certainly seemed that way. If they were friends, they could sit and chat about things, even sex. Draco didn't really want to talk about his past sexual exploits, but he didn't see any way out of it without being rude, and he was too tired to be rude right now.

Draco stood and his hands disappeared into his pockets as he took a few steps away from the log. Harry heard him sigh as he looked off into the sky. Harry couldn't tell if Draco was upset by the question or not, but he let the blond take his time, whether he would answer or not. "I'm not really sure where to start," Draco said to the trees.

"Try the beginning?" Harry asked. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know everything, not just the last person Draco had been with, or his longest relationship. Had Draco even had a relationship? It almost seemed to Harry that Draco was uncomfortable with someone being this close to him for so long. He knew Draco liked his space and privacy, but Draco seemed to be enjoying his time with Harry, oddly enough.

Draco sighed again. "My first time being sexual was after a Quidditch match in third year. It started after an argument about something that happened during the match, and all I remember is grabbing the front of his robes and kissing him, taking hold of Wood's hair and—"

"Wait. Oliver Wood? Gryffindor's old Quidditch captain?" Harry asked, starting to snicker slightly.

Draco turned around and frowned at Harry, "So?" Draco came and sat back down before continuing. "Anyway, he gave brilliant blow jobs for a Gryffindor." They sat there, Harry snickering still, getting a little louder, and Draco took a deep breath, silently thanking Harry for breaking the tension, even in such a stupid way. "Are you finished?"

Harry nodded, clearing his throat, but leaving a small smile on his face from his mirth. He listened as Draco continued. "We never told anyone. I gave him one, too, and I'm pretty sure it really wasn't all that great. I didn't care much for it, but that could have been because it was Wood. I quite enjoyed doing it to you, though."

Harry smiled at what Draco said, and how the blond wouldn't look at him. He knew Draco wasn't unhappy about it; just that he was a bit embarrassed. Harry found it sweet, if that could be a word applied to Draco Malfoy. Harry could easily say he had enjoyed it, too. After another long length of silence, Harry was still curious, knowing that couldn't be it. "Was he the only one you were with?"

“No, there were a few others. Pansy, of course, but that wasn’t on my list of great ideas.” Draco leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “She was terribly bossy. She’d say, ‘Draco, touch me here. Draco, touch me there. You call that harder? I want to go again; can’t you get it up faster than that?’ I mean, it was my first shag: it wasn’t going to be perfect. I never bragged about my sexual prowess.”

Harry laughed while Draco was describing Pansy’s attitude. That was a first, for Harry to ever hear something like that from the blond, him usually being such a stern person. Draco making fun of someone wasn’t anything new, but in the manner he was doing it now, with humor, was a really nice perspective to see, in Harry’s opinion. He had to scoff at the last part, though. “I heard you were a god in the sack,” Harry said. “At least according to the girls’ gossip, which I guess isn’t true.”

“I don’t know who started that rumor, but I’m far from a sex god,” Draco confessed. “I’m a sexy, dashing bloke, but definitely not a god.” Harry was a bit surprised that Draco was telling him the truth. After a lot of people in his life had lied to him, or simply kept the truth from him, Harry figured he assumed a little too much when it came to taking what people said for truth. For the longest time, he’d thought Draco had started the rumor himself, but apparently not. “I don’t think I was anything special to her; it was our first and only time together, and afterwards I was the last thing on her mind as she jumped into bed with anyone that said ‘hello’ to her.”

Harry shifted on the log, coming a bit closer to Draco, nudging the blond with his shoulder. “Not that I have any other experience, but I don’t think you’re a bad lover,” he said, watching Draco turn to him and give a smile. They spent another few moments in silence, listening to the sounds around them. It was easy to forget where they were going. It’d be nice to have done this at Hogwarts, getting to know each other. Maybe Harry shouldn’t have turned Draco away the first time they’d met at Madam Malkin’s.

“My first time shagging a bloke was Adrian Pucey in fourth year,” Draco continued, looking to Harry to see if the other boy actually wanted to hear the rest. Harry was getting an unsure look on his face, and Draco knew why. “Yeah, he failed a year. He was sick and missed most of the year; Hogwarts doesn’t allow people to resume the rest of the class, so he had to start where he left off, which was with the year under him. He could have left after his OWLs, but he needed a NEWT for his career.” Harry was sitting close to him, and he didn’t mind at all. It was getting a bit colder out as the time passed, and Draco welcomed the heat. “After we did the deed, typically, I started calling him ‘Pussy’. He doesn’t like it at all, and I’m sure he regrets the entire thing, but what do I care? Most people don’t even know why; they seem to think I’m only making fun of his name. Only a few people know the real reason: like I said, I don’t go about bragging, but I don’t necessarily hide it, either.”

Harry’s expression turned from interest to concern as he thought about that. If Draco didn’t care who knew, but wasn’t about to tell everyone about it, that meant that he didn’t care what people thought about them together, right? “Don’t look at me like that,” Draco interrupted his thoughts. “We weren’t the best of friends, Harry; we despised each other. If anyone had known, there are those in my house who would have tried to take you away from me and do the same thing I had in the beginning.”

Harry really frowned now, but let it go. He didn’t want to think about what happened before, rather wanting to focus on now. He certainly didn’t want to think about what someone else would have done to him. Looking back, Harry realized Draco was quite nice to him, in comparison to what the Slytherins could have done.

“Have you let anyone shag you?” Harry asked. He was curious now, wondering if the reason why Draco wasn’t too rough with him was from his own not-so-great experience. Draco didn’t seem the type to hang on to something like that in his mind, but it could have taken him some time to realize and change his ways with Harry. Besides that, Draco did seem to know what he was doing, knew how it would feel from Harry’s position. Draco eventually nodded. Harry wasn’t sure why Draco was reluctant to talk about any of this, but he guessed it was just an uncomfortable topic overall. Harry didn’t have to ask his next question, as Draco knew it was coming. After Draco still didn’t answer when several moments passed, Harry prompted, nudging shoulders again to get the boy’s attention. “Come on, Draco.”

“It was Blaise,” Draco said.

“Zabini?”

“We’re friends. And yes, Harry, even I have friends,” the blond said, not waiting for Harry to say anything else. Harry hadn’t thought of saying anything, but he did learn a little bit about Draco from what he said himself. “After I’d been with Pussy, I wondered whether his subsequent depression and resignation after he’d come back to Hogwarts was my fault for humiliating him, but I guess it was because he had to repeat a year. I went to Blaise to find out what could have been so bad about the experience. It was fifth year, and I knew he wouldn’t make fun of me or tell anyone he’d had me.”

“Was it what you expected? I mean, being on the other end,” Harry asked, watching Draco’s face to really see what he thought, not necessarily take his word for it. Everyone has at least one friend, though, and Harry had been surprised that Draco would assume Harry thought he had no one close to him. He supposed with Draco’s family it might be a touchy subject.

“I didn’t enjoy it, if that’s what you mean. Even though we’re close, Blaise can get very overenthusiastic in private, especially when it comes to sex,” Draco said. Harry spared a moment to wonder why he’d never heard anything about Blaise before, if he was that excitable in bed, but he was quite pleased that Draco continued to speak honestly. “I suppose it balances out for the fact he’s usually so quiet and reserved you almost forget he’s there. It could have been better, but I think I was too nervous and tense through most of it.”

“Do you think you’d ever want to try it again with someone?” Harry asked, knowing it was a bit of an obvious question, but it just sort of slipped out. He wondered what it was like to be the one on top, and he didn’t mean to imply wanting to force Draco into it, even if he thought he could. Harry simply wanted to know what it felt like.

“Trying to tell me something, Harry?” Draco asked, a sexy tone to his voice, making Harry a little warm inside. He was attracted to Draco, and he had to admit he always had found the blond attractive, despite their past history of violence towards one another.

“No, just…wondering, I guess.” He felt a little embarrassed, even though he knew there wasn’t a good reason to be. Draco had just shared a lot with him, and Harry doubted he was done, so he had nothing to be embarrassed about asking one little question. Draco smiled at him again.

“I don’t know,” he answered, letting out a deep breath. “I haven’t considered it, mostly because there was no one else I’d felt comfortable with, especially since I went a bit mental for a couple weeks thinking I’d been knocked up. It turned out to be a bad case of the flu.”

“Oh?” Harry asked pointedly with a touch of sarcasm.

“Yes, well,” Draco began, equally as pointed, “my mind usually disappears into my shorts when I get into bed with someone. Sorry.”

“I noticed,” Harry said, sighing, but he wasn’t mad. They looked at each other and neither of them was mad. There was no use in getting upset about it now, when neither of them really was upset about that part of this ordeal. It was a bit late for regrets, anyway. “Were they the only ones?”

“Just the boys,” Draco answered. “Alicia Spinnet,” he continued, and Harry gave him a look but Draco went on. “Cho Chang, last year,” Draco looked at Harry to gauge his reaction. He knew Harry had had a crush on her all throughout third and fourth year, and even tried asking her out. Harry didn’t care about it, and was glad that Draco hadn’t cared about her, knowing she wouldn’t have cared about him either. He almost laughed thinking about his ‘date’ with her in fifth year, which she had cried through while alternately mourning Cedric and staring at Roger Davies. “I don’t know what you saw in her, but she’s a shallow bird, that one. Walked right up to me in the Three Broomsticks and asked me straight up to shag her. Those were the only girls from Hogwarts. During the Triwizard Tournament there was a girl from Beauxbatons, and some older girls from around Hogsmeade and the village near my home,” he summed up. There was no reason to elaborate on each one, and he believed Harry had heard enough on this subject.

“So, there’s been more girls then boys?” Harry asked, wondering what that meant for their relationship. If Draco didn’t fancy boys as much, would that mean he wouldn’t stay with Harry? It didn’t sound as if Draco had ever had a relationship that didn’t consist of just sex, or even that Draco had sex with the same person more than once. Harry had changed Draco’s opinion of relationships in a lot of ways.

“I guess so. I suppose that makes me bisexual. I’d say at least half of the wizarding population is, though a lot of men are afraid of being with other blokes because of the curse.” Draco wished he had thought this through more, being with Harry, before everything had happened. He doubted they would have spent as much time together had Harry not conceived a child, but Draco had come to the conclusion that he wouldn’t trade this new friendship. Draco looked to Harry. “What about you? I know I was your first, but do you like both genders? You had that crush on the Chang girl, but that’s all I knew about.” He kind of felt dumb for thinking Harry had had sex with at least a few people before him. Where would he have found the time? He was always running off to do something or other.

“If I had to label it, I’d probably say I’m gay.” Harry didn’t think he should hold out much longer to see whether he was bisexual or not, especially after what Hermione had said to him before Snape had even told him about the child.

Draco nodded at his answer, and he understood. He’d never spent a lot of time paying attention to either sex, just whatever looked good to him at the time. He supposed that was a bit shallow, but the last thing he had been looking for was a relationship, or anything else that would get in the way, but he didn’t quite think the same about this relationship. “Do you reckon you’ll want to sleep with anyone again?” Harry asked, not knowing whether it was appropriate. He had no claim on Draco, just something that gave them a common bond, and they weren’t even technically dating, let alone married, but he didn’t think he could be around Draco if he had been with someone else.

“I’ll want to sleep with you,” Draco said quietly, and Harry’s eyes widened slightly for a moment, not believing his ears. “I haven’t been with anyone else since I’ve been with you.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep with someone else or not. He hadn’t even looked at others, not that he had much of a chance to while gallivanting around the countryside with Harry. He hadn’t thought about anyone at Hogwarts, nor even simply appreciated the looks of anyone they’d seen since leaving school.

Harry knew Draco wanted to sleep with him, but after hearing it in the way Draco had said it made it seem completely different. If he didn’t know better, he’d have to say that Draco was starting to develop feelings for him. It was a bit of a strange concept for Harry, since he’d thought that Draco had been sleeping with others besides him since their first time. It was nice to find out it wasn’t true, and it made Harry feel a little different, and a little ambitious. In one of his not-so-rare sudden impulses, Harry leaned forward and placed a kiss on the corner of Draco’s mouth. As he pulled back, wanting to look at the blond’s face to see what he had thought of that, he was stopped by a hand on the back of his neck.

Harry let out a short moan at the sudden passion that Draco threw into the impromptu kiss. Harry opened his mouth when he felt the blond’s persistent tongue licking at his lips. They slowly broke apart after the kiss, and Draco stood from his seat on the log, holding a hand out to help Harry to his feet. “Let’s go get a room for the night. We still have a couple days travel before we reach Durmstrang, and Snape, if he’s still there,” said Draco.

Draco pulled Harry up and they made their way back to the road, still holding hands, though they were dropped once they started the walk back. Harry was glad Draco had opened up, but had been a little worried when he started the conversation. He had no idea what Draco would think about it having been Harry’s first time with anyone. He felt like he’d almost ruined the chance for a relationship of any sort, but he didn’t think Draco was going anywhere because of it. Harry could see why the blond would think he’d had sex before.

He was popular, but it wasn’t just a normal popular, it was because he was famous. If a girl liked him, was it because she liked him, or because he was famous for one thing or another, be it Quidditch or Voldemort? Everyone who had ever shown an interest in him had been shallow, but they had had no idea how big a favor Harry was doing by letting them down. Anyone close to Harry was likely to be more involved in his battles, and could become a victim; he couldn’t do that to someone. To make it easier, Harry hadn't like any of them to begin with, so it hadn't been hard to say no.

When they made it back to town, they stopped in front of a small hotel, which looked more like a three story house than a usual large hotel. Draco seemed pleased with it, though, and Harry walked inside when the blond held the door open. They stopped at the front desk, Draco accepting a key from the young lady working there, and paid her for the night before they headed towards the stairs. Once inside their room, Draco set the bag down on an armchair near a small fireplace and went to the bathroom. Harry wandered to the bed, taking off his outer robes on the way and sat down to relax for a few minutes. Draco returned, looking a bit more refreshed, and joined Harry on the bed.

“How much further do you think before we get to Durmstrang?” Harry asked, watching Draco unlace his boots.

Draco frowned as he was bent over attending to the laces, thinking that he could have sworn Harry had already asked the same question earlier. He put it aside, and attributed it to getting lost amidst the rest of the conversation. “Two or three more days, I’d wager.” He felt Harry shift on the bed, and he kicked off his boots before lying down beside the Gryffindor. Harry tried to count the days they’d already been gone, and he figured they’d been on this adventure for almost a fortnight.

He hadn’t a clue as to why they had to go, but they were here now, and the point was to find Snape and speak with him. Why they were heading towards Durmstrang, Harry wasn’t sure anymore, but Draco seemed to know, and Harry decided to leave it at that. He knew there wasn’t anything good ahead of them, and there was a very good chance there would be trouble when they arrived. If Hogwarts was a safe place for members of the Order of the Phoenix, that made Durmstrang a place for Death Eaters, given the school’s history of teaching the Dark Arts and their Headmaster having been a Death Eater.

“Do you think there will be Death Eaters at Durmstrang?”

Draco turned his head to Harry, raising an eyebrow. “There’s a good chance, Harry,” he replied honestly.

“Perhaps this wasn’t the best of ideas,” Harry sighed, pulling one of Draco’s arms up so he could rest his head on it, facing the blond.

“Honestly, Harry,” Draco started, “that’s like being drunk and stumbling, laughing the whole way, into a room full of angry Death Eaters and then promptly puking on my father’s shoes.” Harry looked sick, like he might just get the puking out of the way beforehand. “If that’s what you have planned, then ‘uh-oh’ is a severe understatement.”

Harry sighed again, and Draco lifted his arm up, pulling Harry closer, and rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t know what it was, maybe just the time spent together and the trust built, but he felt he could talk to Harry. Draco was realizing how much he wanted this relationship, if for nothing else than simply for not wanting to be ripped apart from someone who cared about him. Blaise cared about him, but Harry wasn’t like Blaise at all. His fellow Slytherin was quiet and smart. Draco was just as smart, but his interests lay outside of books and work; he enjoyed traveling and adventure, something that he had in common with Harry. Despite the horrible trip they were currently on, each other’s company had made it bearable, almost enjoyable.

Draco didn’t know anymore why the person next to him was supposed to be his enemy. Perhaps it was because he had finally known this Gryffindor for the person he was, and not simply judged him by everyone else’s speculations. Harry was happy to be a normal student and do normal things. His friends didn’t treat him like he was something special, and that’s exactly what Harry wanted. And, even though he didn’t want his fame, he took it with a grain of salt and did what was expected of him for the greater good. Draco could understand that, but by no means sympathized: he could never do something like that, but he realized the closest thing he’d have in common was the child between them. His first thought had been to not be a part of the child’s life, but now he felt he owed it to the unborn being he’d helped create. He wasn’t sure he and Harry would continue their closeness, but that was another thing they would have to put aside, at least somewhat, to remain civil in the face of an innocent.

The one thing that was pulling at Draco to take responsibility for his child was the way his own father had been towards him. He didn’t want to be like his father. He’d seen his father with his mother, and he didn’t like how he treated her, supposedly the one he loved, let alone his own only child. Draco hated not being able to comfort his mother after his father had taken something out on her. He would never want to be like his father. Draco kept repeating that in his head until something dawned on him. By being with Harry right now, by his thoughts these past weeks, he realized what he had been doing: his alliances had been changed from evil to good. Oh, Merlin, what had he gotten himself into?

He knew how he felt, and he couldn’t change it. People had told him how he felt, what he had to act like, for most of his life, and he wasn’t agreeable to it any further. If his father was at Durmstrang, he knew nothing good would come of it. Draco knew he would make sure to treat Harry better, and because he’d wronged Harry already, he didn’t want to make it any worse. He looked back at Harry, already sleeping, his body rising and falling gently with each breath. He’d never enjoyed someone simply being next to him, not asking for anything, but just to sleep, safe and sound.

@>*~

There was still a fairly good amount of students on their way to the Quidditch pitch as Hermione made her way along with them to watch the game. She didn’t see many Slytherins in the crowd, and their stands were mostly empty when she looked across the pitch from the Gryffindor stands. All the Ravenclaws were there, and a smattering of Hufflepuffs, but anyone would say there weren’t as many people there as usual. With two Seekers gone from the school, the infamous rivalry gone with them, Quidditch had lost a bit of its appeal, especially to parents and wizarding folk from outside the school.

“Hermione,” Neville called to her when she reached her seat. He hadn’t really been waiting for her, but he was kind of lonely, and hoped she would settle down beside him. He had no one to watch in the game, but he didn’t have anything better to do elsewhere either. The library was empty, and though Neville went for the books, he at least liked to have some silent company, whoever it may be, Madam Pince notwithstanding. He enjoyed Quidditch, but he could never get too into it at other games. Trying to watch all the different players was too much for him, and he tended just to focus on one and follow them the entire match. At least he could watch Ron, and have something to talk about since Hermione was certainly going to be watching her boyfriend as well.

“Hello, Neville,” she said back, smiling at him. She looked around him, despite herself, knowing that Blaise wouldn’t dare to be in the middle of Gryffindor’s cheering section. They weren’t too bothered by it, being used to hiding their relationship, and being separated most of the time. Hermione couldn’t think of her relationship being like that: if she couldn’t see Ron at least every half hour, she didn’t know how she’d manage being so lonely.

“Stands are a little bare today, eh?” Neville asked. There was support for both teams, but that was about it.

Hermione nodded. “I’m sure it has a bearing on people’s interest in the match, especially with Harry being gone.”

They didn’t have much to talk about, but thankfully before either of them could say anything more, Colin Creevey’s voice came booming out of the commentator’s box. “Welcome everyone, to today’s Quidditch match: Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor!” A pause for cheers to spring up from the stands, and they didn’t sound as sparse as the crowd was, which was a bit encouraging. “And here come the teams! Playing Seeker for Gryffindor this match is my little brother, Dennis Creevey!” There weren’t as many cheers for that, but there were a few. “Also, Ginny Weasley filling in as Chaser!

“Madam Hooch has just brought the balls out, and has sent the Keepers to their posts. And there, she’s blown her whistle, and the Quaffle has been thrown up into the air, and quickly taken by Gryffindor Chaser Parvati Patil. The Bludgers are very close to Patil, and — oh! — she’s just dodged that one, which has spun off towards Mandy Brocklehurst of Ravenclaw.

“Ooh, now Brocklehurst has stolen the Quaffle, after leading the Bludger off to Ravenclaw’s Beaters, and is on her way towards Gryffindor’s goal posts, guarded by team captain, Ron Weasley. Brocklehurst passes to Turpin, dodging a Bludger sent by Seamus Finnigan of Gryffindor.

“Getting close to the goal, Weasley attempting a steal but instead derailed by a speeding Bludger– Oh! Nice save by Ron Weasley.

“Gryffindor in possession, Keeper Weasley passing to Thomas, passing to Chaser Weasley, dodging another Bludger, hit by Ravenclaw Beater Orla Quirke, the Bludger now going straight for Gryffindor Beater Lavender Brown, who hit it back and – ouch! – smacks right into Padma Patil, who looks mostly unharmed.

“Quaffle stolen by Lisa Turpin, stolen back by Weasley, who has zipped past the Bludgers and is headed to Ravenclaw’s goal posts, dodges a steal from injured Patil, and– score! Gryffindor scores, now leading ten to zero.” Cheers were more constant now that the balance had been tipped, giving Gryffindor to cheer for more goals, and Ravenclaw to cheer harder to prevent them.

“Keeper Ackerly tosses the Quaffle out to Brocklehurst, who takes off down the pitch, followed by Turpin at her side, as they begin passing back and forth, avoiding the Gryffindors’ Bludgers, hit by Lavender Brown – what a strong arm on that girl! Distracted by the Bludger, Brocklehurst drops the Quaffle to be picked up by Thomas, flipping around to return to Ravenclaw’s goal posts!

“Here come the Bludgers, chasing him down, Thomas dodges, spins, dives, and goes back up – oh, no, he won’t be back after that hit from one of the Bludgers. I hope he falls fast enough that the other one leaves him alone.” Colin was quiet, as most of the players slowed while Madam Pomfrey and a couple of students carried Dean off the pitch. Colin resumed, sounding simply in awe of everything that was happening as he watched the two teams. Over the years, neither of the Creevey brothers had lost a shred of enthusiasm for anything they took part in.

“And the game goes on!” Colin continued. “Quaffle is close to Gryffindor’s goal posts, protected by Weasley, and Chasers Quirke and Brocklehurst are coming up fast, a quick steal from Ginny, but stolen back by Mandy, oh! Better luck next time, Ron. Ravenclaw scores! Game is tied ten to ten.”

“He’s doing better this year than the past couple, I think,” Neville commented, though keeping an eye on the game.

Hermione nodded, looking back at Neville for a moment before her attention returned to the game, too. “He’s had a few years to get used to the pressure,” she said, knowing how worried Ron got before a match, even if it was for absolutely no reason and he was just getting his knickers in a twist over nothing. “I think it helps that I said I’d give him a bit of a reward if he kept Ravenclaw from scoring,” Hermione added. That was enough to pull Neville’s eyes from the game and smile a knowing smile at her. Hermione blushed, but didn’t comment.

A moment later, a bit belated due to the rush of the game, or maybe it was just Neville, he asked, “Do you think Dean’s alright?” They had both winced at the hit, and watched him spiral to the ground before being carried away.

“He wasn’t that high up, so he should be fine,” Hermione answered. Before she could praise their mediwitch and assure Neville that Dean would be properly taken care of, a sudden streak of blue and bronze flew by the stands in quite a hurry. “Was that the Seeker?”

Neville had seen it, too, and was looking in the same direction that Hermione was, but they couldn’t see anything. Hermione squinted into the sky, scanning with her eyes. “I think so, but I don’t know where they went, or even who they are. Who is Ravenclaw’s Seeker?”

“Oh, my! And it looks like the Snitch has been spotted by Ravenclaw Seeker Luna Lovegood! Creevey has been darting around, and now they’ve both taken off after what has to be the Golden Snitch.”

“Luna?” Hermione questioned. “I didn’t even think she had any interest in Quidditch.” Her specialties were strange myths and anything else contained in her father’s magazine, but Hermione had never heard anything about sports from the Ravenclaw girl. During fifth year, Hermione had tried reasoning with the strange girl, telling her that the articles in her father’s magazine were a bunch of rubbish. Though after Harry granted _The Quibbler_ an interview, Hermione had had to respect the magazine at least a little bit. When Luna had come along to the Ministry of Magic and helped in the fight against the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione had to respect Luna, even though her ways were odd. She was likable, but … odd.

“Neither did I.” Neville added.

The two Gryffindors watched as Luna and Dennis sped around the pitch. It was hard to watch them, and it was common to get a sore neck from looking up so high, trying to track the Seekers through the sky, up and down. They seemed to lose the Snitch for a moment, but soon they were both off again at high speed after an, from the ground, invisible ball. Suddenly, Luna leaned forward on her broom and took off like a shot. Dennis wavered for a moment, unsure whether to follow her or not. He couldn’t risk it, and was soon racing up behind her, soon neck and neck with one another. They both reached out, trying to hold onto their brooms in the rushing wind. It was close, their hands bumping into each other as they inched closer and closer to the Snitch, but in the end, Dennis was the one to barely grab the ball between his outstretched fingers.

“Another save by Weasley! Patil takes possession of the Quaffle, she tosses it to– hang on. The Seekers have slowed down after a rigorous race all over the pitch, and has the Snitch been caught?!” Colin gasped. He watched as his little brother raised his hand in the air, waving the little golden ball back and forth excitedly. “Dennis Creevey has caught the Snitch! Way to go, little brother!” Cheers and boos could be heard from the stands, and Colin spoke over them easily with the Sonorus Charm on his voice. “The final score is one hundred sixty to ten; Gryffindor wins!”

The players in the sky swooped and twirled in excitement before flying down and landing. Everyone ran to where Dennis was, who had landed a few moments after confirming his catch. Seamus and Ron dropped their brooms and hoisted the younger boy onto their shoulders, cheering at him as they walked towards the edge of the stadium, towards the locker rooms. The Ravenclaw team was clearly not as happy, but they were still quite amiable as they congratulated each other and the Gryffindor team on a good game played.

No one seemed to take it out on Luna that she hadn’t caught the Snitch, even when she commented, “That was fun, but I think I may have gotten a splinter in my bum.” The rest of her teammates chuckled softly at the strange girl as they all headed towards the locker rooms behind the Gryffindor team.

@>*~

Harry’s eyes opened suddenly when he woke from a very vivid dream. He was covered in sweat and when he tried to move, all he could manage was to shake, so he lay still. Though from the moment he woke, the dream had all but disappeared from his consciousness, and he could only recollect a few images of Voldemort talking to … Lucius? The man had never been in his dreams before, but Harry had also never been so involved with Draco before, so he was trying not to think much of it. He could have succeeded with that if his scar wasn’t throbbing, making his head warm with a dull pain. He slowly raised a hand to it, pressing gently, trying to make it stop. He didn’t want to pay much attention to that, either, but he had nothing he could do about it at the moment. If Hermione were there, she’d tell him to go see Remus or Professor Dumbledore, but neither of them was there, either.

The more Harry tried to recall the dream, the more he only saw pieces of it. He couldn’t remember anything that was said, but he couldn’t shake any of it out of his mind. He knew this type of thing meant, more often than not, that Voldemort was setting something in motion, his intensity on the matter high enough to filter through to Harry’s mind through the link of the scar. As much as he would rather have had a nightmare about Lucius Malfoy simply because he was hanging about with Draco, he knew it wasn’t, and he sighed, looking to the window as the sun cast a dim orange glow on the room as it set beneath the mountains and trees in the distance. It was a nice view from their room, and at any other time he’d be more inclined to enjoy it; but with their destination looming in his mind, Harry couldn’t spare a happy thought for it.

He couldn’t even get out of bed, and he stared at the darkening sky as he waited for a reason to get up. After a few more minutes, he felt Draco begin to stir in his sleep, and he knew that was his cue. He reached over to grab his glasses from the nightstand as Draco sat up in bed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Draco watched him, and wondered how long the other boy had been awake; he guessed not long, since he hadn’t even been wearing his glasses, so Draco doubted he’d been out of bed. He hadn’t seen the dark-haired boy without his glasses that often, but without them, Draco realized that even though he’d complained that they were an ugly feature on the boy, he was more attractive with them than without. After seven years of seeing Harry with glasses, he supposed he’d gotten used to it.

Draco left those thoughts behind as he got out of the bed after untangling his leg from the sheets, grabbed their bag and headed to the bathroom. Harry, after several days with Draco behind him, sat up and rested against the headboard as he waited for the blond to return. He heard the toilet flush from behind the bathroom door, and he wondered if he’d ever have to use the toilet as much as women seemed to claim they must do during pregnancy. At least they made that big of a deal out of it on the telly; well, of what he observed when the Dursleys would let him watch in the first place. He wondered if he would be the same, though, being male, or maybe it hadn’t hit him since he wasn’t that far along. Either way, he would much rather have to run to the loo every five minutes than go through this puking business.

The door opened to the bathroom and Harry stood to go in after Draco came out. Draco handed him the bag as he watched Harry walk towards him. Draco retrieved his clothes from the chair beside his side of the bed and put them on. He could hear Harry in the shower, and he wondered what the other boy was doing, what he was washing. He supposed it was an odd thing to think as he sat down, but he couldn’t help picturing the other boy in his mind as he waited. He could have been gathering their things, how few they were, in preparation for the next trip, but he decided daydreaming would be much more practical at the moment. And if not practical, it was far more enjoyable than collecting Harry’s dirty socks.

Harry was thankful to be a wizard, if only for Freshening Charms on not so fresh underwear. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to bring along a change of underwear, if not a whole set of clothes. He really hadn’t been thinking much at all, had he? He shook his head at himself in the mirror and tried to pat down his hair. He left the room and bent to pick up his clothes from the floor, meanwhile, completely oblivious to Draco’s eyes on his body from the second he’d come from the bathroom. Harry never even heard Draco move, but he certainly felt Draco’s hands on his hips as he stood, his arse pulled flush against the other boy’s groin. Harry turned his head to the side to try and see the other boy. “Draco?”

Draco pushed hair away from Harry’s ear with his nose as he all but nuzzled close to Harry, whispering, “I want you.” That sent chills down Harry’s spine. “Can I?” he asked, not wanting to hurt the other boy again by taking advantage, as he wasn’t in the mood to argue about anything. Harry wasn’t sure what had gotten into Draco, since they’d never dropped everything before Apparating just to shag. Draco was usually the one who wanted to get going, and now he wanted to stay. Harry was thrown off by the blond asking for permission, and it kind of turned him on, making his heart beat faster, and he let out a shaky breath as he nodded his head.

The blond felt Harry’s head brush against his in a nod of confirmation before he turned the other boy around and pressed a kiss against Harry’s lips. Harry’s lips parted under Draco’s and he felt the blond’s tongue slither into his mouth, pulling his own back with it as they kissed. Draco pulled Harry close, putting more pleasurable pressure between their groins, and Harry moaned into the blond’s mouth at the sensation. Draco paused for a moment, to lean back from their close contact. Harry frowned when he watched Draco reach up to pull his glasses off, and to toss them haphazardly to the side. Draco focused his attention on their bag as he rummaged around inside it after pulling it up onto the bed, and he pulled out the bottle of hand oil. Draco knew he couldn’t see, and he smiled for a moment at the intent stare as Harry tried to see what Draco was doing, and he put the bottle in his pocket for the time being.

Harry was pulled up against Draco’s body once more and their lips found their way to each other again, eliciting more moans from Harry, especially when he felt Draco’s hands move from his hips, around to his back, and slide further down. When Draco squeezed, Harry couldn’t help but grind his pelvis forward into the blond. He barely noticed when Draco turned his body, never releasing his lips, as he pushed him back until his legs hit something to make them stop. Draco reached his hands to the waistband of Harry’s boxers, and without preamble, slid them down, letting them pool at the dark-haired boy’s feet. Harry shivered, as much at the cool air on his warm privates as in anticipation.

Without notice, Draco took hold under his thighs and lifted him off the floor slightly to set him down on the table. Harry had been caught off guard, and it let Draco’s eyes take their fill at the naked body posed before him as he retrieved the bottle of oil from his pocket, setting it on the table beside Harry. Harry watched, with as much as he could actually see, as Draco began undoing the clasps of his trousers, and shoving them down, along with his underwear, to the floor, while that action exposed a very interested erection that Harry couldn’t miss, glasses or no. Draco moved a bit closer, pushing a hand against Harry’s smooth chest, telling him to lean back. The table was cool on his skin, and Harry tensed before his skin warmed the wood under him. He felt Draco spread his legs and move in between them.

Draco grasped the bottle and poured some of the oil into his palm and reached down to coat his erection. Harry tried not to breathe so loud in order to hear what was going on, and all he could feel were Draco’s thighs brushing his own. He heard something hit the floor but he had no time to question when he suddenly felt Draco’s hand, slick with oil, caressing his hole. It was barely a moment before Draco slipped a finger inside, and Harry tensed at the insertion. He breathed out, relaxing his muscles and he closed his eyes, getting lost in the sensation as it became more and more pleasurable as Draco worked him open one finger at a time. When Draco was finished, Harry was panting as the blond lifted his legs to expose his hole a little better. With one hand holding one of Harry’s legs up, he used the other to steady his cock, positioning it towards the teased hole in front of him. After a few careful thrusts, he was deep inside of the other boy’s body.

Harry gasped when Draco pushed deeper and deeper until he couldn’t go any further. Even after all this time, it still stung a little as his muscles were stretched, prepared first or not, when Draco slid inside of him for the first time. The oil certainly helped, and it made it feel so much better, but Draco must have felt Harry tense, and he paused a moment to give Harry’s body a chance to relax again. It also gave Draco a moment to collect himself and not become too excited from the tight heat enveloping his cock. Draco leaned over Harry so that he could reach the other boy’s lips in a kiss, and Harry moaned as Draco’s lips touched his as Draco’s body pressed his cock in deeper and his abdomen against Harry’s own hard cock. Draco began to slowly pull back, and thrust forward just as slowly, torturing Harry, who was responding to the kisses and penetration with pants and gasps, breaking away only to breathe.

He tried to hold his legs up, and wondered if Draco would mind if he sort of wrapped them around the blond’s back. They were useless, almost dangling on either side of Draco’s hips, though they moved with the momentum as Draco pushed his cock in and out of Harry’s arse. Draco angled his cock a bit differently, and Harry arched his back at what felt like a considerably deeper thrust aimed at his prostate, making him almost choke on a gasp he let out. Draco pushed himself up from Harry’s body to look down at his lover, watching the sweat pooling in the dark-haired boy’s throat, and the flush creeping up his cheeks. Draco couldn’t resist, and he leaned back down to bite at Harry’s neck just where it met his shoulder, sending the other boy into spasms of pleasure at the new sensation added to the mix.

Harry tried not to dig his nails into Draco’s arms as he held on, whimpering as his cock jerked in between their stomachs and at the hard suction Draco was applying to his neck. He knew he must have tightened himself on Draco’s cock, because he heard a drawn out moan come from the blond, and Harry held on even tighter when Draco began thrusting harder and harder, continuing to hit Harry’s prostate. Draco continued his quick, hard thrusts as he sucked and bit at Harry’s neck. It wasn’t a surprise when Harry cried out, his cock spurting as he came all over their chests. Draco straightened after that, looking down at Harry as he took hold of the other boy’s hips, pulling the tight hole back onto his cock as he pushed forward. It only took a few more thrusts and Draco came inside the other boy. Draco held the position while they both tried to regain their breath. The sweat on both of their bodies began to cool, and Harry couldn’t help but squirm as the drying come on his chest began to itch. Draco pulled back slowly, his softening cock slipping out of Harry with a soft, wet sound.

Draco bent down to his trousers and found his wand, casting a Cleaning Charm on himself and then Harry before pulling his trousers back up. He moved away so that Harry could get up, but the dark-haired boy just lay there. Harry was a bit sore all over, he supposed from lying on the table, but it wasn’t altogether unpleasant. He sat up, leaning back on his hands as he watched the blond pick up the bag and put the bottle of oil back inside. He also picked up Harry’s glasses and handed them to the still naked boy. “Thanks,” Harry said quietly as he slid off the table and made his way to his own clothes. His hair was messier than it was when he got out of the shower, but he couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it right now.

When they were both dressed, they found themselves sitting beside each other on the end of the bed. Harry had just finished putting his shoes on. They were quiet for a moment, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not until Harry spoke. “What made you want to do that?” he asked, looking to the blond.

“Do I need a reason to shag you?” Draco asked back, a bit of an edge to his retort. He didn’t know why Harry would even ask. Why else would he want to? He had even asked to make sure that he wasn’t doing something Harry didn’t want to do, too, but it seemed that wasn’t good enough.

“No,” Harry answered, “I was just wondering.”

They sat there for another moment before Draco stood, pulling the bag onto his shoulder as he walked to the door, opened it and held it there, waiting for Harry to join him. Neither of them spoke as they made their way down the stairs to the front desk to hand over the key to the room before leaving the building. It was easier to find a place to Apparate from, since they could pick anywhere and not be startling anyone in the small wizarding town. They walked a short way from the hotel and Draco looked to Harry, silently asking if he were ready to go or not. Not that he had a choice whether they left or not, Harry nodded, and he watched Draco close his eyes and then a moment later he was gone. Harry sighed, closed his own eyes, pictured Draco in his mind, and followed.

When Harry reappeared beside Draco, he was a bit surprised to find that his stomach wasn’t even a bit upset, unlike most other times they’d Apparated. Maybe he was finally getting used to Apparating, he thought. Draco gave him a moment anyway to let them both adjust to their surroundings before they walked out onto the street they were facing. The Slytherin had ducked into the closest alley when he arrived, because at first glance, there seemed to be more Muggles than wizarding folk in this area. Then, Draco paused, a thought crossing his mind, and Harry barely noticed the blond had stopped before he walked past him. “What?”

Draco frowned, turning to look the other way down the street for a moment before he answered. “I actually don’t know where we are,” he admitted.

“What?” Harry asked again, though with a more incredulous touch to his voice. “What do you mean you don’t know where we are? That means we could be back where we started, somewhere we’ve already been!”

“Do keep your voice down, Potter: I thought we were supposed to be keeping a low profile?” he asked, an old sneer coming to his face at the question, and Harry knew Draco was quite annoyed at him at the moment. Once Harry had settled, Draco continued. “What I mean to say is that I’m not sure whether we’re in Omsk or Tomsk. My father took me to both, and apparently from what I’ve recalled, they both looked the same.”

“Couldn’t we just ask?” Harry questioned, wishing he hadn’t spoken in such an outburst without letting Draco explain. He supposed it was true that it was a typical Gryffindor response.

“Really, Harry, don’t you believe it’d be odd for two blokes to ask where they are? We’re trying not to gather unwanted attention to ourselves, and being somewhere where we obviously do not belong and asking where we are, does not make for a sane case on our side.” Harry nodded solemnly in understanding, and he looked past Draco, not wanting to look the blond in the eyes at the moment, but he saw something that made him smile. “Harry?” Draco asked as the other boy walked by him. “Harry! Where are you going?” Draco turned and started after the Gryffindor, hoping Harry wasn’t finally going nutters as he walked briskly down the sidewalk, stopping at a booth on the side of the street.

“What the hell, Potter?” Draco demanded. Harry ignored him, picking up a large paper back book and flipping through a few pages before pushing the book at Draco, who eyed it with a bit of distaste. “What’s this, then?”

“This,” Harry started, “is called a phone book. It lists the numbers to get a hold of every person in the city, kind of like the Floo for Muggles. Now, since you’re the one with the Translation Charm, you can read what it says and find out where we are.”

Draco daintily took the book from Harry, trying not to think of how many people, including Muggles, had touched it before him. He scanned the page that Harry had opened, and soon found what they were looking for. “It says we’re in Tomsk.” He quickly handed the floppy book back to Harry and stepped out of the booth they were standing in. “How quaint,” Draco commented as he spared a glance at the whole setup before turning to head down the street. Thankfully they hadn’t needed to search for their lodgings because the areas Draco had been in were full of shops, taverns and hotels, but they walked quite a way down the street before they found somewhere to stay.

When they’d come across somewhere that was moderately acceptable to Draco in the Muggle area, since they hadn’t found anything that was strictly wizarding, the blond opened the door and walked in, leaving Harry to catch the door and hold it open himself. Draco was almost done at the front desk by the time Harry reached his side, and the blond turned around to him. “Come on,” he said, gesturing ahead of himself to the lift that the woman at the desk had pointed out to him. The hotel was certainly owned by Muggles, and Draco seemed to keep his distance from even the walls, and everything but Harry as they made their way to their room.

Draco inserted the key, turned it, and used his wand to swing the door open in front of him. Harry watched him curiously as they entered the room. It didn’t look particularly bad, but Harry frowned as Draco seemed to look for a specific place to set the bag. After that, Draco seemed to circle the room, investigating everything, his lips curling slightly when he realized there was no fireplace, and that the pictures on the walls were still. “Are you alright, Draco?” Harry asked from where he’d sat on the bed.

“I’m fine, just irritated.” He didn’t elaborate on why, but it was quite clear to Harry that Draco was a bit uncomfortable in a Muggle environment. Anything that Draco noted the difference between wizard and Muggle, Harry barely noticed. Even with all the time he’d spent in the wizarding world since his eleventh birthday, he still didn’t find it hard to function when he went back to the Dursleys in the summer. He was relieved when he was back at school, but that was more to be away from his hateful family than to be around magic again. He understood Draco’s apprehension, since he’d been raised to despise Muggles and their ways, but at least he wasn’t spouting spiteful names and slurs at them. _At least he’s trying,_ Harry thought.

Draco placed wards on the door and window like he usually did, and then headed into the bathroom. Harry looked around at the room, really not seeing anything different than usual about it, but maybe he was just missing subtle things that Draco was getting his knickers in a twist about. He kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his robes before lying across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. A few minutes later, Draco was back and he sat down beside Harry’s head, leaning over to pull out a packet of crisps from their bag. He opened them and ate a few before Harry interrupted him, with a crisp halfway to his mouth. “Can I have one?”

The blond looked down at him, and changed the direction of his hand, and before Harry knew it, the crisp was at his lips and he opened his mouth to take the food. He almost wanted to laugh at Draco, but knew that wouldn’t be the best idea when the blond was testing out more intimate waters at the time being. They shared a few more crisps like that, Harry looking a bit expectant when he was finished chewing each time, until he was sated, and Draco put the bag away. It was quiet for a while; Harry was simply enjoying the silence and getting a bit of rest in, while Draco seemed lost in his thoughts. Harry sat up and looked at the blond, whose eyes hadn’t even flickered when Harry moved.

“Alright?” Harry asked him, hoping he wasn’t distracting Draco from anything important on his mind.

Draco nodded after Harry asked, as if he hadn’t been preoccupied only a second before. They sat there for another few minutes, Harry watching Draco, wondering what was on his mind. Draco had been oblivious to his observer for several minutes before he seemed to catch sight of Harry in his peripheral vision, and he took a breath before he spoke. “There was a Quidditch game today.”

“How do you know?” Harry asked, marveling that Draco seemed to be keeping track of time, and of Quidditch games, no less.

“It’s Saturday,” he said, not elaborating. Harry had all but forgotten about what day it may be, even what time it was; without being on a schedule at school, he had no reason to know what day it was. Another part of him felt a bit like he wasn’t pulling his weight on this stupid adventure, not even keeping track of something as simple as the days. “I think it should be Ravenclaw versus Gryffindor. Disregarding their win over Slytherin,” Draco said with a touch of anger to his words, “Hufflepuff won’t be able to keep up a winning streak against the other two houses. Think your team can survive without you?”

Harry scoffed. “Of course,” he said, “we have Ginny to fill in, and Dennis Creevey has been practicing as Seeker, and he’s getting bloody good at it. I’m not afraid of losing my spot, but he is good. They don’t need me to win.” Harry uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him on the bed, leaning back on his elbows to support his body. Draco still sat with his legs over the side of the bed, facing half away from Harry.

“It wouldn’t matter if I was there if Slytherin were playing,” he admitted.

Harry frowned. “Why? You fly really well, Draco.” It wasn’t a lie, and they both knew it. Whenever they’d come head to head chasing the Snitch, it was always a close match. Draco could follow him anywhere on the pitch, just as quick, just as daring in his moves when he had his mind on the task at hand.

“And that’s why my father bought my way onto the team,” Draco said back, “but I’m shite at Quidditch.” It wasn’t much of a secret that Lucius demanded the very best from his son, and after the first game his father attended, the man had nothing but shame for Draco. Draco had believed he would be a good player, and he knew he could keep up to Harry, the best player on any of their teams at Hogwarts, but that didn’t count for much with the older Malfoy.

“It’s just your strategy,” Harry started. “And the rest of your team,” he sighed. “All the Slytherins care about is the next person they knock off their broom, or their next steal of the Quaffle. Sure, stealing the Quaffle is a good thing, but they need to pass it and have a plan after that point, not just try to force their way down the pitch. I’m sure it works for a lot of the time, and against the other teams it had its strong points and often overpowers them, but against Gryffindor’s strategy, it fails, because we think around Slytherin’s very obvious strategy. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw are just too afraid of being hurt to actively take action against it.”

He supposed Harry was right, but to try to talk the rest of the Slytherin team into the same train of thought was mad. It was a bit encouraging to hear something other than how much a waste of money it was for Draco to play Quidditch, though, and he wished he could smile about it. “What do you suppose your mates will say when they find out you’ve been knocking boots with the likes of me, and have gotten knocked up as well?” he asked, changing the subject. He doubted it was a good change, but he hadn’t much to pick from, and he didn’t much want to talk about the other downsides of their endeavor.

Harry frowned at him, wondering why he didn’t want to talk about Quidditch anymore. He knew no one liked to hear about their shortcomings, but he thought it was a safer topic than what Draco had decided to not too subtly bring up. “I have no idea, but it’s bad enough Hermione and Ron know…”

Draco stood up abruptly and interrupted Harry before he got any further. “What the fuck do you mean that Weasel knows about us?” he demanded. “That Mudblood must have figured it out, of course,” Draco said angrily, turning with a dramatic swirl reminiscent of Snape as he lashed out a hand, smacking a lamp off the nightstand. It crashed to the floor, breaking into pieces, startling Harry. He wasn’t used to Draco having outbursts of anger, and he stood up to face the other boy.

“Calm down, Draco,” he said calmly in example, and watched as the other boy stared across the bed at him, temper tamed for a moment. “First off, no matter what goes on between you and me, it doesn’t give you the right to degrade my friends by calling them names.” Just as Harry finished, Draco moved and was about to speak, but Harry held up his hand, a very unimpressed expression on his face at the blond. “I’m not finished,” he added. “And you’re right, I didn’t tell them, they figured it out on their own. They’re not thrilled that we’re doing anything other than fist fighting and throwing hexes at one another, but it’s my life and I make my own choices, and they should understand that. Now, sit down.”

Draco watched Harry sigh and give him an irritated look before sitting back down on the bed himself. He didn’t look at Draco, but the blond knew that Harry was waiting expectantly for him to follow his order. He sat down next to the Gryffindor, and he was glad to see Harry getting a little angry; he missed it, to be honest. He missed the fights they got into, the intensity and adrenalin that it gave them both to fuel their days, or at least that’s how Draco felt about it. After a stretch of silence, Harry still lay there quiet, unmoving, eyes closed with his arms above his head on the bed, but Draco knew he wasn’t asleep. “Look, I’m sorry about losing it, and for calling your friends names.”

Harry cracked his eyes open and looked over at Draco, raising an eyebrow skeptically at the apology the blond had begun. Draco raised one of his own eyebrows back at the dark-haired boy. “You know I’m not going to change overnight,” he countered, “but I’m trying to make an effort, alright? It’s going to take more than a bit of time together or even our child to erase seventeen years of my father’s lectures.” Harry sighed in response, laying an arm over his eyes. He knew Draco was right, but it was still difficult to take at times. It would bother anyone if their partner didn’t like their friends and called them names every other day, even if they had started out enemies like he and Draco had. He just hoped Draco wouldn’t call Ron and Hermione names when their child was present. It struck Harry as a bit hypocritical for Draco if he did though, since the baby wouldn’t even be considered a pureblood, since Harry was only a half-blood.

“Are you hungry, or is the food in our bag enough for tonight?” the blond asked. He didn’t get the feeling Harry wanted to get dressed and go out for food, as he was still in his underwear and made no intention towards moving.

“No, I just want to sleep a bit,” Harry answered, and wondered if Draco would know it was a lie. He’d been getting more and more hungry as each day went by, but he supposed he was trying to ignore it. He had no idea how much money they had and didn’t want to be wandering around where they could run into trouble as each day went by. Draco nodded, even though Harry couldn’t see it through his arm. Draco lay back on the bed and silence descended on the room. Harry thought Draco had fallen asleep and he was surprised when the blond spoke again.

“We’re almost at Durmstrang,” he said. Neither of them wanted to talk about it, but Draco thought it would be better to get their fears into the open so that there would be no surprises. He didn’t know what to say beyond that, and he waited for Harry to say something, make some sort of move towards continuing the conversation or telling him to shut up and go to sleep. Draco was beginning to realize how much he did enjoy the strong opposition that Harry posed to him over the years. He liked someone to stand up to, that was equal, that he didn’t have to be scared of, that he could challenge and have fun with, even if it was in their own way. He couldn’t think of how it might have been if they had been friends from the start.

Harry turned onto his side to face Draco, stirring him out of his thoughts and bringing him back to the conversation that he’d initiated. “I’m a bit scared,” the dark-haired boy said, propping his head on his hand as he looked at the blond. Draco nodded, knowing exactly what Harry meant. Until everything was actually real, when they had something to confront, it didn’t seem so bad that they were walking up to the Dark Lord’s front door. Draco had no doubt that Voldemort was at Durmstrang, and he wondered whether there was some draw for Harry to go to the school other than to find Snape. There was no doubt that Harry’s reasons were completely irrational, but Draco was leery of blaming it all on the pregnancy, but he passed some of it off as changing hormones.

He wasn’t sure if they should even continue on their way to Durmstrang. The Dark Lord may be there, but Snape could have very well decided to head back to Hogwarts, though Draco doubted that. He didn’t have many good thoughts about Dumbledore, but the man didn’t spare a second watching his golden boy, Harry Potter, and surely knew they were missing from school. Of course, in order to protect the boy, he’d have found a way to let Snape know what was going on. Draco wasn’t sure what to expect from the Headmaster; there were a few times when he felt they were being watched, but he couldn’t get a feel for whether it was by Aurors or Death Eaters. He knew his father could find him anywhere if he tried, but he couldn’t see why anyone would be looking for him, and he also couldn’t see how the Aurors could find them when they had little information to go by.

He knew paranoia was within reach, but it slipped away when Harry shifted, and Draco looked over at the other boy who had gotten up and back into bed after pulling back the covers. The blond wondered how long Harry had been watching him, and he felt it odd that he hadn’t been uncomfortable being watched by the other boy. Draco shook his head slightly as he sat up and got ready for bed himself, folding his clothes and setting them on a nearby chair. He was glad they’d abandoned sleeping in their trousers; not only was it uncomfortable, the wrinkles that creased his clothes in the morning were horrid.

Draco pulled the covers over his body and wasn’t surprised when Harry moved closer to him, but when Harry was flush against his side and settled an arm over the blond’s chest, Draco looked over at him. He didn’t say anything, but he watched Harry’s eyes and observed the look he was being given. Draco was beginning to wonder about that look, and he wondered about it even more when Harry offered him a tiny smile before closing his eyes. He had the same look in his own eyes, unbeknownst to himself, and likewise he had no idea that was what prompted the smile. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as he closed his own eyes. It was a long while before either of them fell asleep, with fears and doubts running through their minds, danger prevailing in their thoughts.

@>*~

After all the excitement of the Quidditch game, most of the students that had been in attendance were in bed, but by half past eleven the final stragglers were heading to their common rooms from the Great Hall, including Ron and Hermione. “It was great of Professor Dumbledore to let us all stay in the Great Hall after supper,” Hermione said as Ron stopped to open the portrait door and gestured for Hermione to enter the Gryffindor common room before him. She had a suspicion the Headmaster had simply wanted to keep everyone distracted and mostly in one place for the time being, perhaps to draw attention away from Hogwarts’ missing students. It was more than an after-party for the Quidditch game, as students from all houses stayed after supper to chat and play games, and take their mind off of everything in general. Another reason Hermione approved of the celebration and get-together having taken place there was that she didn’t have to clean anything up in the common room; she hated to leave it all for the house-elves.

As prefects, Ron and Hermione had to break up a few fights and some raucous behaviors, but nothing out of the ordinary. They hadn’t been expecting to break people apart as soon as they walked into Gryffindor Tower. “Oi! Seamus, get your paws off your pot of gold, there,” Ron said as they walked into the room to see Seamus and Dennis all but shagging each other right on one of the couches in the common room. Ron shook his head, though with a grin on his face, as he reprimanded his friend. Hermione was busy shooing some first years up to bed, and telling them porkies about what the older boys had been doing, but Ron doubted they believed a word of it.

“Honestly, you two,” Hermione said with a note of annoyance to her voice, “get upstairs and do whatever it is you do in private.” She proceeded to shoo them out of the room, too. With their footsteps going up the stairs, Hermione pulled Ron down onto the couch. Ron sat down and put his arm around his girlfriend, leaning in for a kiss as they heard a moan come from the stairwell. “Upstairs!” Hermione yelled, as Ron rolled his eyes and kissed her again. She was no prude, despite what some other girls may say, but it really only mattered to herself what she did or didn’t do in bed. It wasn’t a personal reason to tell the boys to go somewhere private, but to save innocent eyes; on the other hand, she just wanted the common room to themselves, as they couldn’t go anywhere private together upstairs without an audience of their own.

The fireplace had been dying down and they parted lips to cuddle against each other as they watched the embers glow in the grate. The room was getting a little cool, and Hermione pressed closer to Ron, enjoying his body heat. Ron lifted a hand to pull her chin towards him and leaned down again to place a chaste kiss on her lips. He had meant it to be a good night kiss before they parted for the night, but he was a bit surprised to realize Hermione had other plans when she turned her body towards him, kissing him again and sliding her tongue along his slack lips before he opened them for her tongue to dip inside. Ron was getting turned on just from the kissing, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t going to stop there when Hermione pulled away.

“I want you,” Hermione breathed out against Ron’s neck, kissing it softly, making the boy’s eyes fall closed. “Where can we go?” she asked, moving higher to flick her tongue over his ear lobe. They couldn’t very well stay in the common room where anyone could walk in and see them, including McGonagall, so that was definitely out, not to mention they’d be very hypocritical after kicking Seamus and Dennis out for wanting to do the exact same thing. Hermione sighed, a little disappointed, against Ron’s cheek before giving him another quick kiss on the lips, leaning back to look at him.

“I think I might be able to sneak you in,” Ron said when he had found his voice. He took her hands in his and moved them from his shoulders onto her lap before he stood up from the couch and ran up the stairs as fast as he could. “I’ll be right back,” he called down to her when he was halfway up. Hermione smiled after him and tried to sit patiently. It only took a minute before Ron came back, but he didn’t look too happy as he crossed the common room back to her. “I went through Harry’s trunk, but he probably took his invisibility cloak with him,” he explained. “Maybe you can Transfigure your clothes into something boyish?”

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, and stood from the couch, simply pushing him back towards the stairs. “I doubt that would work, Ron,” she said, walking around him to grab his hand and lead him upstairs. “Was anyone awake?” Ron shook his head, following Hermione, who smiled. When they reached the door to the seventh year boys’ dormitory, she saw an empty bed, curtain still open, and assumed it was Seamus’ bed, since Harry’s empty bed was beside Ron’s. Seamus must have been in the fourth years’ dormitory with Dennis. She hoped they had added a Silencing Charm around the bed, or the fourth years wouldn’t be getting much sleep. A quick glance at the other side of the room, and all the other curtains were closed.

They walked slowly and as silently as possible to Ron’s bed. When they were beside it, Hermione felt Ron press up against her from behind, from chest to groin, and she moaned without thinking and pushed her backside into him. She let out a gasp and then covered her mouth quickly, shooting a look behind her at Ron as a warning. They really didn’t want to wake anyone up and were almost blowing it by making too much noise. Pulling back the curtains, Hermione crawled into the bed and watched Ron shrug his robe off before kneeling on the bed and pulling the curtains shut behind him.

On his knees in front of her, Ron undid the clasp on her robe and pushed it off her shoulders so it fell down her arms as she shrugged out of it, tossing it to the end of the bed. Before she knew it, Ron had her shirt untucked and lifted up above her breasts, and she breathed in when she felt his hands on them. Hermione opened her mouth in a silent moan at the contact, even through her bra. Suddenly, she pushed Ron’s hands away, and he looked confused while she dug through a pocket on her discarded robe; she pulled out her wand and waved it around the curtain. “Silencio,” she whispered, and Ron’s look went away, and his hands came back, making Hermione drop her wand to the side with her robes.

Hermione smiled, and that smile turned into a giggle, making Ron pause. “What’s so funny?” he asked, wondering if he had done something stupid that had made her laugh at what he was doing. Ron worried for a second as she laughed a little harder before he remembered no one could hear them.

“Just this whole thing,” she said. Ron didn’t like the sound of that, and his face must have clearly conveyed that thought. “Sneaking around,” Hermione clarified. She didn’t add that it was weird without Harry, and weird that they weren’t necessarily doing something out of bounds, but not necessarily permitted, either.

“Yeah,” Ron nodded, praising his luck at being with Hermione at all, “but even if we did get caught, I wouldn’t be ashamed.”

Hermione blushed and leaned forward to kiss Ron to hide the color coming to her cheeks. She licked at his lower lip, coaxing his mouth open for her to slip her tongue inside, sliding it along his own. Hermione’s hands slid down Ron’s chest to the hem of his jumper, and without Ron even realizing, she pulled away and yanked it over his head. He quickly overcame his surprise and closed the gap between them, more clothes falling forgotten to the end of the bed. Her shirt came next, and their lips were barely apart for a second before it joined Ron’s jumper to keep it company. Hermione had a moment to breathe when Ron moved lower, mouthing along her breast, wetting her bra with saliva. She sighed in pleasure at the contact and the air cooling the wet fabric when he moved away.

Ron reached behind her to undo the clasp, pulling the straps forward and down her arms, exposing her bare skin. He barely took a moment to spare to simply look at her breasts before be began to lick and suck gently at Hermione’s nipples, back and forth, with one hand massaging one breast while he was lavishing attention on the other. Hermione’s breathing kept getting louder, and suddenly she pushed Ron away to be able to reach the button on his trousers, popping it out of its hole, and working the zipper down. Ron moaned when Hermione’s hand brushed his straining erection inside his boxers, and as much as he didn’t want to pull away from that feeling, he moved back to be able to push his trousers down his legs, hooking his thumbs in his socks to take them off as he went, and kicked his shoes off, dropping each of them alongside the bed to the floor.

Hermione had taken her skirt off while he’d been busy, but she’d taken her knickers off as well. She took a moment, smiling as she felt Ron’s eyes on her body, to unlace her shoes and take them and her socks off. When she finished, Hermione turned back to find he still had his boxers on, little Quidditch brooms zooming around on the fabric. Hermione smiled at them in amusement, almost giggling, and Ron looked down indignantly at himself before he remembered his boxers, and grinned sheepishly, knowing they certainly had to do something about that. She brought herself onto her knees to get closer to Ron, and grasped the waistband on his underwear, pulling them downwards, little brooms knocking into each other, to expose his cock. Ron took a moment to get the hint and lift his bottom for Hermione to be able to pull them all the way down, but he had gotten quite distracted by her slightly spread legs, and Hermione’s hands moving along his hips and thighs.

Once his boxers were tossed aside and both of them were naked, Hermione leaned down to Ron lying on his back and continued their kissing. Hermione enjoyed the moan from her lover as her breasts pressed down against his chest, prompting his hands to move from where they’d been on her hips to her breasts. They could barely pull themselves away from each other, nor did they want to, but Hermione wanted to try something, and she reluctantly stopped the kiss and turned around so that her rear faced Ron, and she was left looking at his cock. Hermione bit her lip for a moment, hearing Ron whisper, “Hermione?”

He knew his mates couldn’t hear him, but it was late in the night, and it seemed to warrant the hushed tones, even though he could scream at the top of his lungs and no one would hear a peep of it. Ron thought he knew what was coming when Hermione turned, but he still had to wonder what was coming, and just hoped it wouldn’t be him so soon. He couldn’t see Hermione smile as she took hold of his cock, even if his eyes hadn’t closed at the sensation, and he gasped when she pulled a little, stroking the skin under her hand. She felt Ron’s body tense at what they both knew was ahead, and Hermione went lower, giving a shy lick to the already moist tip of Ron’s cock. Ron gasped again at the feel of her tongue licking the head of his cock, and he almost couldn’t believe she’d actually done that for him.

Judging by Ron’s reaction, Hermione let her uncertainties fade away, even though she’d never done this before. She’d heard a few older girls talking about it over the years, but she’d never heard much detail, mostly just catching snippets of conversation. The library and even the Restricted Section didn’t carry books on the subject, she’d actually looked, so she was on her own. As she gave another lick, a longer, more adventurous, teasing lick, Ron moaned and barely restrained thrusting his cock upwards at the wet touch, and she definitely didn’t think she was horrible at it.

Hermione slowly moved her head down, licking along the way, and kept going until Ron’s cock was all the way in her mouth, but she promptly gagged when it hit the back of her throat. Ron didn’t seem to notice, only sucking in a breath at the tightness around his head as it went as far as it could in her mouth, and that made Hermione feel better. She pulled back, letting her lips close around the thick length in her mouth and slide over the sensitive member. Hermione didn’t have time to take her mouth away before she felt movement behind her, and before she knew it, two of Ron’s fingers slid inside of her, making her moan around his cock.

Ron whimpered at the vibrations her moan created, and she pulled back slowly, giving the tip another lick before sitting up, turning to face Ron again, and throwing a leg over his body to straddle him. She reached down and held his cock for a moment to position it, and then sank down onto his length. They both moaned at the feeling, Ron’s cock being enveloped in warm, moist heat, Hermione being filled, his cock rubbing against all the right spots. Ron’s hands came back to Hermione’s hips, tightening almost painfully around them as he tried very hard not to come, looking up at his beautiful girlfriend above him.

Hermione knew what his actions were saying, and as much as she wanted to move, she waited for Ron, watching him take a couple ragged breaths before nodding to her, giving her the go ahead to keep moving. She smiled and settled her hands on Ron’s chest, lifting up her arse, pulling his cock out halfway before sitting back down. Hermione continued to ride him slowly until he began encouraging her with moans and nods, and thrusts into her to go faster and faster. Ron had recovered from his close call, and he thought Hermione must have been getting tired from the way she was breathing, a slight sheen of sweat on her body.

Ron didn’t think anyone could look any sexier than Hermione did right now, and he sat up suddenly, surprising her, and turned them over, laying her on her back. They were separated for only a second, but when Ron slid himself back inside of Hermione, it felt like the first thrust all over again, making them moan. Hermione took advantage of the break, and it made it all the more pleasurable for her to be able to relax and throw her head back while enjoying the hard thrusts into her body and Ron’s against her own. He was making little noises into her neck at every other thrust, kissing and nipping occasionally at the salty skin on Hermione’s neck as they both came closer and closer to their release. Ron finally gasped out a moan when he came, Hermione humming in pleasure, her body clenched hard around his length as she reached her orgasm.

Hermione held Ron tightly to her chest as they both regained their breath. After a moment, Ron moved from on top of Hermione, lying down in her place as she sat up and reached for her clothes. As much as she’d like to stay and cuddle, it was technically against school rules, and being a Prefect, Hermione needed to set an example and not be caught in the boys’ dormitory in the morning if one of the other boys chose to wake Ron the next day. She put her shirt on and leaned down to give Ron a quick kiss before she finished getting dressed. “Good night, Ron,” she said, smiling.

“Night, Hermione,” Ron replied, smiling back at her before she took down the Silencing Charm around his bed and pushed the curtain aside, letting it fall shut behind her. Ron didn’t hear her at all as she left the room, except for a barely audible click as the door shut behind her. He sighed to himself before finding his boxers, putting them on, and pulling the covers up over him. He wished Hermione could stay with him, fall asleep in his arms, but he knew it was not really allowed. He frowned for a moment, not quite comfortable, and he reached under his back, fishing for a moment before pulling out the offending item. Hermione had left her bra, unable to find it since Ron had been lying on it at the time. In her haste, she simply left it. Ron smiled as he stuck it under his pillow and closed his eyes before he drifted off to sleep.

@>*~


	10. Chapter 10

This time when Harry was startled out of his dreams, it was enough to make him sit up in panic and pain, clutching at his forehead, hand over his scar. His movement was abrupt enough to shake the bed and wake Draco, who barely took a moment to have his wand in hand, squinting through the dark around the room, looking for anything threatening. When Harry’s ragged breathing figured into Draco’s equation, the blond hesitantly lowered his wand and turned to the boy next to him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he watched Harry.

Harry swallowed, gasping as he took his hand away, releasing the comforting pressure he had been applying to his scar. “My scar,” was all Harry could get out. The pain was slowly subsiding, but not enough yet for him to say much. He knew Draco would question, not knowing what the hell he was on about.

“Your scar?” Draco asked, more of a prompt for Harry to continue, and he wondered if Harry had finally lost his mind.

“It hurts,” he explained, “like a burning pain, deep under my skin, whenever Voldemort is near.” Harry took a deep breath, a little shaky, and lay back down on the bed to try and relax. Draco stayed sitting, watching him with concern written clearly on his face, waiting for more. “It started a few years ago; I started having dreams, seeing things, and it turned out what I was seeing was what Voldemort was doing, who he was talking to, sometimes even what he was thinking. When he gave me this scar, we got linked somehow.

“Professor Dumbledore ordered Snape to start giving me Occlumency lessons, but we couldn’t put our feelings aside enough to gain any ground on the subject. The scary part was when Voldemort learned to use the connection to his advantage, and give me dreams on purpose. The lessons were to block him out, but I couldn’t do it. He would put thoughts and dreams in my head to get me riled up, to make me do things I would regret.”

Draco tried to take in what Harry was saying; he had no idea something like that could have been happening between Harry and the Dark Lord. He couldn’t even imagine someone controlling his thoughts like that, without even the Imperius Curse, but it didn’t even compare. The people affected by the Imperius knew that they weren’t acting on their own, they were conscious of what they were doing, whether they wanted to do it or not. If it were him in Harry’s place, he would have gone mad. Harry looked miserable, and he was quiet. He wasn’t going to talk anymore, so Draco decided to try and get his mind off of whatever was bothering him now.

“Well,” he said, “we’ll be arriving at Durmstrang the day after tomorrow.” Apparently he couldn’t get his mind off things that weren’t pleasant either, and from the blank look on Harry’s face, the blond knew he’d put his foot in his mouth.

“Yeah,” was all Harry had to say in response. He tossed the sheets to the side and got out of bed. He didn’t have anything else to say, and even if he did, he didn’t think he’d say it. He couldn’t even blame his mood on Draco, since Harry had brought it up himself. He grabbed their bag and started shuffling through it, things knocking against one another inside.

Draco sighed to himself, watching Harry, who was clearly in a snit now, instead of the sadness that had surrounded him a few moments before. They couldn’t very well Apparate to Lena if Harry’s mind was elsewhere. No one liked being splinched on a good day, and Draco had an almost sickening thought that Harry may end up in Lena, but their baby might not. He may not have been overly thrilled at his role as a father, but over the last fortnight, he’d almost had time to get used to the idea. He watched Harry stalk into the bathroom, slamming the door angrily behind him. Draco pushed the sheets off his legs, the sheets were doubled because Harry had thrown his right over onto Draco, and took off his underwear, leaving them on the floor.

The water was already started, and Draco made his way to the bathroom, opening the door quietly. Harry was in the shower, steam from the hot water was already filling the room, creating a silhouette of the Gryffindor on the curtain that Draco watched with interest. Draco ran a hand through his hair, taking a moment to ponder his actions before he gently pulled back the curtain as quietly as he could. Harry had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed Draco come in the bathroom at all, let alone pull back the curtain. He only managed to have time to turn around before he was pushed against the cool tiles of the shower wall. The Slytherin’s hands rested on the wall, effectively pinning Harry in place as he kissed him deeply. Harry didn’t know what had drawn Draco into the shower with him, but he felt himself and his nerves relax as Draco’s tongue began to explore.

Harry didn’t know if Draco would ever stop, not that he wanted him to, and he barely noticed when Draco pulled away and began kissing down his neck, stopping to suck where his neck met his shoulder, making Harry gasp. Harry inhaled too sharply again, coughing when water from the shower spray entered his mouth, when Draco continued his way down, sliding to his knees. Harry just stared down at Draco, barely able to comprehend what was to come next. He wanted to watch, but the next thing he knew, his head was thrown back, hitting the tiles with a thud while he moaned deep in his throat. The hot water of the shower was nothing compared to the heat of Draco’s mouth around his cock.

Draco moved his head along Harry’s swollen cock, humming occasionally as he swallowed excess saliva, which made Harry almost choke him by thrusting forward at the vibrating sensation on the sensitive skin. His knees felt like buckling, but he let his hands tighten in Draco’s wet hair, not even aware he had moved his hands to the blond’s head in the first place. Draco knew that Harry was close to getting off, and he picked up the pace, which startled Harry into dropping his hands, which he then balled into fists and pressed them back against the shower wall.

“I’m going to come,” Harry gasped out in warning, but Draco certainly knew that and ignored him, continuing until Harry cried out. His knees finally gave out, and he would have fallen forward if not for Draco holding him in place as he came hard inside the blond’s mouth. Harry barely had time to catch his breath before he was turned to face the tiles. He suddenly felt two fingers on his hole for only a moment before they were pushed into his body. Draco didn’t spend much time with that, impatient for his own release, and he let Harry’s come out of his mouth to drip down onto his palm, rubbing it over his swollen head before pushing his cock into the other boy.

Harry cried out again at the intrusion, moaning as he felt the blond pull back out. His body was so relaxed that it gave no resistance to Draco’s movements, his cock sliding in and out easily, pleasuring them both. Draco felt Harry’s knees shake and he put his hands higher on the wall, and pulled Harry’s hands into his own, lacing their fingers before resting their combined fists on the wall for more stability. Harry continued to moan as each thrust of Draco’s hips made his cock hit Harry’s prostate. His head fell to the side when he felt Draco run his tongue along the back of Harry’s neck, tasting the drops of water and sweat.

He wanted a free hand to wank himself as Draco fucked him, but he almost didn’t want to pull either of his hands away from their place with Draco’s, and he doubted he could have pulled them away had he tried. His erection had come back and was pressed tightly against the tiles. Draco continued to thrust hard and fast into Harry, enjoying the almost inaudible whimpers the dark-haired boy let out each time the blond’s cock was deep inside his body. Harry was going just as crazy as he had been barely five minutes earlier at the sensations and the aspect of being taken roughly in the shower while unable to touch himself. Draco moaned into the back of Harry’s neck as his cock finally emptied inside of the other boy. Standing up straight, Draco released Harry’s hands, one of which barely spared a second before it was wrapped around his cock.

The Slytherin smiled to himself as he pulled his cock slowly out of Harry’s body, and when the head of his cock slipped out, Harry groaned as he came, semen splashing the tiled wall. Draco slipped two fingers back into Harry for a moment, pushing up, pushing Harry against the wall, smearing his own come on the wall and on his body, kissing the side of Harry’s neck before getting out of the shower. Breathing hard, Harry almost collapsed, but he managed to crouch down, washing his stomach before turning the water off. He waited a moment to regain some energy before standing up, and when he opened the curtain, he barely missed catching a towel with his face when Draco tossed it to him.

A few moments later, Harry was glad the towel was covering his face as he dried his hair because he blushed when he felt another towel touch his body, and Draco continued to dry him off. He had no idea why the blond suddenly seemed keen to bestow this kind of attention on him, since he’d never displayed any inclination to do so before this point. Harry wasn’t complaining as he finished drying off, watching the blond, but it just struck him as a bit strange, but not as much as the next thing Harry failed to see coming. Draco let his damp towel drop to the floor with a dull ‘splat’ before his hands rose to pull Harry’s face close to his, kissing him again, much like he had as his greeting in the shower. Harry hadn’t realized he’d even closed his eyes when he heard the bathroom door open, steam floating out after the blond, who was no longer in sight.

He had no idea what had gotten into Draco, and took a split second to wonder if he’d been possessed; he also wondered if he actually wanted the snarky, less-caring version of his lover back. Or perhaps, it had just been something he ate, and he’d imagined the last twenty minutes of his life. Maybe he hadn’t even got out of bed and Draco was sitting there raising an eyebrow at his cock making a cute little tent out of the bed sheets. Harry shook his head, trying to get rid of his rambling thoughts. He put his underwear back on and went into the main room. Draco was already dressed, and was sitting in an armchair, picking at his nails, his eyebrows drawn together as if he were in deep thought about something. Harry got dressed quickly, wincing silently to himself when he moved a certain way that didn’t make his arse feel very good.

As soon as Harry was finished and had gathered their things into the bag, Draco stood up abruptly, grabbed the bag from Harry and headed towards the door. Harry followed after him, unsure of their plan of action, as Draco took only a second to uncharm the doorway for them to leave their room. Harry excused Draco’s silence for concentration as they walked down the hall towards the check-in desk. Draco handed the key to their room to the woman and dropped a few coins on the desk and they were on their way. They found an alley before getting ready to Apparate, making sure the area was clear of Muggles. Draco closed his eyes and Disapparated. Harry took the time by himself to sigh loudly, and it seemed to echo back at him in the small space of the alley. He closed his eyes and pictured the blond before he disappeared, too.

Harry reappeared a few feet away from Draco with his eyes still closed as a wave of nausea hit him hard. He doubled over, groaning after he’d emptied the contents of his stomach onto the ground. Draco was by his side now, and he knew that not because he could see the blond’s shoes, but because Draco was rubbing his back again, humming sympathetically. Even though Harry never would have thought he’d ever use that word applied to the Slytherin, he’d been proven wrong by the way the blond had been acting lately. Harry tried to spit out the remaining residue of vomit from his mouth, but the foul taste remained. He stood up and wiped at his forehead to clear the sweat from his face.

“Alright?” Draco asked, his expression still a bit blank. It almost seemed as if he’d stripped the most of his emotions away while he was thinking, and now wasn’t acting one way or the other.

Harry nodded and Draco slung the bag over his shoulder again before gesturing Harry to his side. They wandered casually along the street, glancing in shop windows and around at the folk passing by them. No one really paid them any mind, and they walked another block before they turned towards a hotel. It didn’t look too shabby at all, and Harry decided that he’d definitely have to pay Draco back the money he’d spent on this ‘trip’, especially since he didn’t have to come at all, or do anything he had done so far, which just so happened to be everything. Draco held open one of the double doors to the building and let Harry walk through. Inside, Draco looked quite familiar with the setting of the lobby and walked straight to the main desk.

Harry followed a bit slowly, watching a man, a wizard, actually, speak a few words and his luggage began to float up from the floor and trailed the man out the door. When his attention came back to Draco, the blond was waiting, key in hand, and he waited for Harry to catch up before they made their way to the room they’d be staying in. Just as the other wizarding establishments they had stayed in, this one had a large fireplace as well, which was no doubt connected to the Floo network. Harry knew not all of them had been connected to the Floo network, but were mostly there as it was the fastest way of communication, much like a Muggle telephone.

Harry left things to Draco, since he was already doing everything anyway, and he went to the bathroom to do his business. Draco had sat down on the bed just as Harry came back into the room. “Are we going to get a bite to eat?” he asked, since his stomach had growled quite persistently while he was in the bathroom. He knew Draco would be hungry by now too, but he had a feeling that they wouldn’t be going anywhere. There had been a strange feel about this town from the time they’d arrived.

As he had thought, Draco shook his head. “We’re too close to Durmstrang, and I’m sure there are spies on the lookout for anything suspicious all over the town.” Harry gave him a worried look. “It’s alright, I don’t believe anyone saw us, but that’s why it’s not the brightest idea to go traipsing about.” Harry sighed a little, more at the situation than at being denied a good, hot meal. It wouldn’t be the first time for that, anyway, so he paid it no mind. They hadn’t eaten much the whole trip, and they were mostly used to that fact already, but it was still good to have some real food every once in a while. “I don’t want anyone to see me, either, or I’d go pick something up and bring it back. As eerily as I resemble my father, everything we’ve worked for already will be blown if the wrong person sees me and, with you, the wind only has to change direction and blow your mop of hair out of the way to show your scar, and everyone would know we were here.”

Harry nodded, knowing that Draco was right. He was famous whether he liked it or not, just because he’d survived the Killing Curse, and since he’d been back in the wizarding world, he doubted the _Daily Prophet_ had gone more than a week without writing something new about him, whether it was true or not, with a big picture of him plastered beside the article. Not to mention any other mischief that had happened over the years, The Triwizard Tournament being the least of his troubles during his fourth year at Hogwarts. To top it off, on a smaller scale, he couldn’t even go through a normal day at school without hearing something about himself, new or old, true or rumored, which spread from classmates to their parents and started the cycle all over again.

He brought a hand up to rub his eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Harry had been dreading the day when he and Draco would be back at school and everyone would know that he was pregnant with Draco Malfoy’s child. If he had been a normal, regular, non-famous wizard, he bet no one would so much as bat an eye at him being with child. The only flack he would get from it would be lectures on unprotected sex at a young age. As most other teenagers would dread that lecture, Harry wished that was the only thing waiting for him when they returned. But he wasn’t just another teenager, and he took a deep breath at the likely fact that he’d be all over the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ yet again.

Draco had started going through their bag and finding what was left of their supplies. They’d stopped a few times to pick up a few more items for food, such as it was, but they just had enough to make it to the end of their trip, which was coming to a head faster than either of them would like. The blond made a pile of a couple bags of crisps and a few candy bars; it didn’t make for a filling meal, but it would keep them from starving, not that they actually would. When they had finished the snacks, Harry pulled back the covers to the side of the bed closest to the window. As per usual, he let his clothes fall to the floor as he took each item off, and crawled into bed with just his boxers on. Draco did the same, but folded his clothes and set them in a pile on the nightstand. He wondered if Harry had to do everything in a messy way, as he compared even the tiniest habits of their mannerisms.

There had been too much on Draco’s mind for him to eat much, so he let Harry eat his fill. He knew Harry was still hungry, and he knew it must take a lot not to complain about it; if Draco had been in his position, that’s probably what he’d be doing. He just hoped that it had made a big enough difference to Harry to do any good. The blond got into bed and waited for Harry to put his glasses on the table to his side of the bed before Draco waved his wand and extinguished the lamps in the room. Harry was settling himself into the bed as Draco was shuffling slightly, and Harry thought perhaps he wanted to be alone for a bit, without the other boy draped over him. Barely before Harry finished that thought did Draco suddenly appear above him, straddling his hips.

Harry opened his eyes, but without glasses in the dark, he could see little more than a dark figure on top of him, though he could still make out the questioning look on the blond’s face. “I need you,” Draco said quietly. “Let me, please?” Harry swallowed at the huskiness in Draco’s voice and simply nodded. Draco moved down as Harry started to spread his legs, and the blond settled between them, bottle of oil already having been opened and closed. Draco smiled down at Harry, lowering his head to brush his lips against the other boy’s in a soft kiss as he moved his oiled fingers to Harry’s opening. Harry took in a sharp breath and it served to open his mouth to let Draco’s teasing tongue flick against Harry’s, making the boy under him moan, loving the feeling.

It took a bit of effort to hold himself above Harry, mindful of his weight as he didn’t want to squish Harry or their child, though he tried not to put too much thought into the latter. Harry was moaning as their bodies touched and the fingers started dipping inside of him, and he then realized that he was already naked, wondering when Draco had magicked their boxers off, or if he’d simply missed another five minutes of his life by being in a lust-filled daze. Draco started trailing kisses down Harry’s chest, still working at his arse, pushing his fingers inside fully. He gave a quick lick to the tip of Harry’s cock to savor the groan that came from the dark-haired boy’s lips before Draco took his fingers out and replaced them with his cock.

Harry had almost been on the verge of coming just from Draco’s fingers in his arse alone, and it felt like nothing could replace the pleasurable sensations they had caused, but he gasped, choking out a sob of relief that something could feel even better than that when he felt the head of Draco’s cock press against his hole. Draco took Harry’s attention away from what was going on below when he captured Harry’s lips in another fierce kiss, pushing himself all the way into the other boy’s body. No matter how many times he’d shagged Harry, the dark-haired boy was always tense before Draco entered him, almost as if it had been his first time, and Draco certainly knew what that had felt like.

Before he had even finished that thought, it was pushed away in favor of more enjoyable ones, pulling out as soon as he felt Harry’s muscles relax, and pushing back in slowly, kissing, licking and nibbling at Harry’s lips. He kept in mind not to bite, as the Gryffindor didn’t like it much; he doubted he would either, though no one had ever done it to him, but he supposed he could imagine. Draco thrust in and out slowly, enjoying the closeness of them, Harry’s cock rubbing against them both. This time seemed different than the other: he felt no urge to pound into the boy under him, to get off quickly and be done with it. Judging by the whimpers his motions were eliciting out of Harry, he must have been enjoying himself, too.

Draco was getting impatient, not used to this kind of thing, and he moved Harry’s legs from around his waist and pushed them forwards, towards the dark-haired boy’s chest. Harry arched his head back into the pillow as far as he could as Draco’s thrusting picked up pace, not quite slamming into Harry’s body on each push. The blond was starting to get close, moving his hips as fast as he could, into the pliant body beneath him. Harry’s hands were on Draco’s back, jerking upwards on each thrust as he lost his grip on sweaty skin until his hands twined into blond hair, pulling Draco down for a kiss that lasted until they couldn’t hold the awkward position any longer. Harry’s hand then found his leaking cock, and he began jerking himself in time to the blond’s thrusts.

He opened his eyes and looked up at the other boy, and what he saw made him moan; eyes closed, mouth slightly slack, lips still wet from their kiss, Draco’s expression was perfectly blank, but what Harry thought he saw made him gasp loudly, spurting come as his climax took hold. There was come all over his hand and their chests, but he couldn’t move until Draco was finished, which didn’t take long before he moaned out his own release, almost collapsing on the boy under him. He kept himself up, but had moved his arms so Harry could lower his legs back to where they had been around Draco’s hips. Harry tried to straighten them out a bit while they were at a stop, catching their breath. Draco was still inside Harry, cock half hard, but it was still enough to make Harry hum in pleasure when Draco shifted. The blond leaned down for a kiss, softly this time, almost sweet. He didn’t want to pull away from Harry, and his cock was taking interest in where it was, starting to stiffen.

Harry could feel it, too, though he had barely realized Draco’s cock had never left his body in the first place. Draco began to rock his hips, very lightly, then pulled back until just the head of his cock was inside of Harry, letting it ease out slowly, followed by a bit of his seed oozing out of the loose, red little hole. They had broken the kiss, and were looking at each other, each not knowing what the other was thinking. Draco wanted to continue, very badly, but he was also tired, and could see that Harry was, too, even though there was still lust in his eyes. They weren’t finished yet, but they would save it for another time.

The dark-haired boy looked to be asleep almost before Draco had gotten off the bed; he must have been more exhausted than Draco had previously thought, whether or not much of it had to do with their sexual excursion. Draco headed towards the bathroom and spent a moment cleaning himself off before returning to the bed with a cloth he’d soaked in hot water. Harry had pulled the sheets up while Draco had gone, proving he hadn’t been asleep then, but he surely was now. The blond pulled them down again and gently wiped at what he could see on Harry’s body, cleaning him of both of their come. Harry seemed to enjoy the warm cloth wherever it touched his body, snuggling into the bed more as Draco continued.

He tossed the cloth to the floor, on Harry’s side of the bed, and pulled the covers up again, this time with himself in the bed, as well. He didn’t know why he had wanted to hurry up their lovemaking, for that was what it had been, but perhaps that was the reason in itself. It wasn’t for lack of want, and they both knew that. He hoped he had made up for lost time by washing the other boy’s body, whether he was awake for it or not. He didn’t know why he didn’t use his wand, other than the fact that a warm, wet cloth was much more satisfying, but he tossed his debatable thoughts and feelings aside as he made himself comfortable in the bed. He lay on his side, facing the Gryffindor, and listened to the slow and steady breathing as he fell asleep.

@>*~

The sun had been up for a while before Harry, and he woke to find rays of light streaking across his face that had eventually pulled him from his slumber. He hadn’t remembered even falling asleep last night, and he hoped he hadn’t missed anything that might have happened after he’d fallen asleep. Harry figured he’d probably wake up if he’d had his brains shagged out of him a second time, like Draco had wanted. His arse was still a bit sore from the last few days. He thought he might cry at the prospect of never being able to sit again, even if it seemed funny to think of, the reality wasn’t as amusing. He decided he’d shut the curtain the rest of the way and come back to bed and wait for Draco to wake up, but he couldn’t get more than an inch or two off the bed, as something, being the dead weight of Draco’s arm, was impeding his progress.

Slowly, he pushed the limb from his body, trying not to wake the blond when he let the offending limb drop lightly onto the mattress. Draco had woken up when Harry tried to sit up, and had simply waited to see what the other boy was going to do, but then he changed his mind. Before Harry could even make it off the bed, Draco’s arm was around his waist again, pulling him close, and then letting his hand trail down to Harry’s cock, which was already half hard, and didn’t take long to be fully hard when Draco’s hand wrapped around it.

Harry groaned at the touch, how good it felt, even though he’d felt it many times before, including from Draco. The blond smiled into Harry’s shoulder as he moved his hand up and down, but he could tell Harry’s body was almost as rigid as the part he was holding on to, and just a little less hard than Draco’s erection brushing against Harry’s thigh. “Draco, please, not right now,” Harry begged. “I’m getting quite sore back there.”

“We don’t have to actually shag,” Draco countered, dropping Harry’s cock to pull the other boy back to him, as he tried to squirm away and out of the bed again. “There are other things we could do.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, in spite of his soreness, he couldn’t help being curious.

“Well,” Draco began, a smirk growing on his face, “have you given a blow job before?”

“You know I haven’t,” Harry said quietly, a bit annoyed, wondering if Draco had forgotten their conversation a few nights ago, detailing his sexual experience, or lack thereof.

“I was being polite, you git,” Draco said, nudging Harry playfully. “Anyway,” he started, turning over onto his back, “get on top, facing my feet.”

Harry turned to look at the blond, an almost smug expression on his face, which Harry wanted to wipe off, but he sighed loudly and complied, moving as the blond had suggested. Draco guided Harry’s feet and knees to where he wanted them, not to mention the cock dangling above his face, just as his own was positioned under Harry’s head. Harry wasn’t sure how to go about doing this, and he started to feel very shy. It was almost like he hadn’t seen Draco’s cock before, never touched it, even though he was quite familiar with it, indeed. He continued to look down at it, and breathed heavily to try and calm his nerves, and when his breath hit the blond’s thick erection, it made Draco twitch his hips, and that only served to encourage Harry to do more.

Leaning his head lower, Harry took a tentative lick down the length of Draco’s cock, then moved to the head, and teased his tongue over the sensitive skin. He was rewarded with twitches and movement from the boy under him, and he couldn’t help but know that Draco was grinning behind him. A little more ambitious, Harry shifted his weight to free a hand, and moved it to surround Draco’s cock, stroking lightly. He knew without a doubt that Draco was enjoying it, so he figured he must be doing something right. Just when he thought he was getting the hang of it, after putting his mouth around the head of Draco’s cock a little, and licking a little more, Draco picked that moment to do the exact same to Harry’s own cock.

Harry gasped, squeezing Draco’s cock in his hand a little tighter than Draco would have liked, though the blond still enjoyed it. Harry had almost forgotten his cock had been right in Draco’s face. He was so preoccupied with what he was doing that he forgot all about himself, though he was still hard as a rock. Harry whimpered at the pleasure running through him when Draco teased him with his tongue, and Harry took the hint and tried to do the same to Draco. The deeper Harry took Draco in his mouth, the same Draco did to Harry, and soon enough, Harry had accidentally thrust his hips forward, almost choking Draco, but almost coming down the blond’s throat, at the same time.

The blond moved his hands to Harry’s hips, holding tight, keeping them high enough not to kill him, but letting them come down far enough to make the dark-haired boy moan around Draco’s cock. Draco knew it was coming, and he sucked Harry’s cock, letting his tongue slide up and down the hard flesh in his mouth, listening to Harry’s groans of pleasure, when he cried out, coming inside Draco’s mouth. Harry was paused for a moment, and he realized he had stopped doing much to Draco’s cock, and he felt a little guilty, since he was the one who was supposed to be giving the blowjob.

Draco pushed gently at him, urging him to move from above the blond. Harry did so reluctantly, but Draco didn’t look too upset, what little Harry could see without his glasses. He watched as Harry squinted towards the stand on Draco’s side of the bed, and he reached for something, almost knocking it off the table before grabbing hold of it. Draco frowned for a moment, wondering what Harry was planning. Before he could question, Harry had turned around on his knees and leaned forward, bringing two oiled fingers to his arse and slowly sticking them inside.

Harry knew that Draco was watching, and he also saw the blond’s cock twitch, giving a little bob as he watched in interest. Draco swallowed, his breathing speeding up a bit as he watched, almost transfixed at the boy before him. Harry had two fingers inside, spreading them a little, and then came a third. Harry started to give throaty moans as he worked himself under Draco’s attentive stare. Draco felt like he should be asking Harry if it was alright, but he knew the answer anyway. He didn’t doubt Harry was sore, but he didn’t want to hurt the other boy. Draco slowly got onto his knees and moved behind Harry. Harry removed his fingers when Draco came closer, and he hoped the blond would still enter him slowly. He did feel a little badly about coming so soon, and pretty much forgetting about Draco’s cock altogether, and he wanted the other boy to get off.

Draco took hold of his erection, lining it up with Harry’s hole, wet with oil. Watching Harry stretch himself had almost made him come on the spot, and his cock was achingly hard. He wanted very much to push in hard, but he knew that wouldn’t be the best thing to do. Draco pushed slowly, hearing Harry breathe in sharply as Draco’s cock slipped past the tight ring of muscle. Draco continued slowly until he was as deep as he could go inside of Harry, their bodies meeting. He waited, letting Harry relax around his cock. Harry took a shaky breath, “You can move, now.”

Draco pulled back, his whole length almost all the way out before he pushed back inside. His grip on Harry’s hips was getting tighter with each excruciatingly slow thrust into the dark-haired boy. His control was being tested, and they both knew it. All he wanted to do was drive in and out, coming hard inside of his lover, but he couldn’t do that. Swallowing, Harry looked back to the blond, “Go faster, it’s alright.”

“Yeah?” Draco asked in a whisper, barely able to say anything without losing his concentration.

Harry nodded back, and Draco sighed, his grip loosening slightly, and he began to pick up his pace. Harry clenched his teeth as Draco’s thrusts got faster, and the pain made him want to make him cry out, but he knew it wouldn’t take long before Draco got off. A few more quick, shallow thrusts, and Draco’s cock spasmed, shooting his semen inside. He waited a moment, breathing more evenly now as he pulled out. He gave a wince in sympathy at the red, clearly sore, hole that his cock slipped out of. He was just glad there was no blood.

Draco reached for his wand from the nightstand, and murmured a Cleaning Spell on himself and Harry. Harry then sat up in bed, trying to sort himself out as he swung his legs over the side. Draco was getting dressed, and Harry decided he’d better follow suit. He supposed they had to get moving, as there wasn’t really time to waste right now, being so close to their destination. That word made it sound like a holiday of some sorts, but they both knew that couldn’t be farther from the truth. After vacating their room, they passed by the front desk, Draco stopping to speak to the witch there, paying her for the room and handing over the key.

Outside, the sun was out, but it was still a cooler than average day. There were people about, doing their business, mostly heading towards the center of the town where the market and shops were, and the two of them headed in that direction. The main street was much busier, and they got a chance to take in a few more sights of what was being sold. Much was the same, but some things were very strange. Draco pulled him over to one shop that sold snacks, and the blond bought a few things to stick in their bag. He didn’t seem to be letting Harry wander very far from his side, but Harry barely noticed until he felt an arm slide around his, and he almost shat himself.

“Just keep close, alright?” Draco spoke to him, as they made their way to a more secluded area. Harry didn’t know why they didn’t just Apparate in the street, but he supposed he wouldn’t be able to concentrate very well with all the distractions, and he really didn’t want to be stuck in a strange place. Draco would come back for him, but that wasn’t the point.

Just before they had left the main street, Draco looked behind himself, and to the corner of the mouth of the alley, swearing he had seen someone standing there, watching them walk further down the alley. The path turned, and they kept walking, though Draco couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He had caught a few people looking at them in the street, but he had passed it off as them obviously being outsiders to the area. The feeling kept growing, however, and he looked behind them once more, only to catch a shadow move swiftly, barely noticeable, into the dark.

Harry was trying not to think much of anything, trying to keep his thoughts clear to Apparate and not splinch himself, but more to keep himself from running scared and trying to Apparate back home and splinch himself. He knew their next stop, and it was the last place he wanted to be. Neither of them knew what would happen, and all they could do was stick together and hope for the best. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, Draco’s own anxiety filtering into Harry’s mind and drawing him to regard the blond with curiosity, and just a little bit of doubt.

“Nothing,” Draco said abruptly, quietly, though he was paying attention to something else, listening to something else besides Harry. Harry frowned skeptically, but let it go. He knew he should be a bit more concerned, but he wanted to get the next Apparation over with before he got his mind reeling again with too many thoughts to handle. “Come on,” Draco said, stopping in his tracks, “now is as good as any time, so let’s get it over with.”

Draco was getting frustrated, knowing that there was something watching them, following them. That, actually, was just annoying; what was frustrating him, and almost worrying him, was whether it was someone loyal to the Dark Lord or not. Draco’s wand was out, and Harry tried not to think bad thoughts. Here they were, ready to knock on Voldemort’s door, and Draco was acting strange, wand out, and looking around as if something were going to jump at him. It didn’t bode well for Harry’s nerves, and he almost wanted to puke then and there, without waiting to Apparate first.

Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded. Draco closed his eyes, relaxing visually in front of the Gryffindor, and held out his hands. Harry looked at them, and took them in his own, thinking he knew what Draco was going to attempt. Draco held tight and pictured where they would reappear. Soon they disappeared with a pop, and the shadow moved out of the dark, now clearly a person, with robes flowing as they walked back towards the street. Draco hadn’t wanted to leave Harry alone to Apparate, and he didn’t know how right his concerns had been.

@>*~

Harry didn’t want to open his eyes, especially when he felt a cool wind blowing against him. Almost as soon as he had felt it, he was warm, and he opened his eyes, wondering if he had imagined it all, before thinking about how much he didn’t want to look at where they were. He just wanted to look at Draco, who had apparently cast a Warming Charm on them. Harry smiled, and Draco knew it was in thanks. He didn’t really want to talk, either. They were still quite a walk from the gates, and Harry wondered just how Draco knew how to get here. It surprised his thoughts and derailed them from going down a path of doubts when Draco grasped his hand and started to walk.

The wind was still blowing, and Draco was glad he couldn’t feel the cold, especially since it was beginning to snow a little. He kept an eye on the gates, visible by the sun’s rays reflecting off the iron bars. He was glad Harry seemed to be in denial of their final destination as he continued to look around at the trees, signs along the roads, paths that split off from the main one they were following, everything but the dark mass that was beginning to show through the foggy air, the Castle of Durmstrang.

He hadn’t thrown up, but if he looked where he was walking, he figured he probably would. Draco didn’t know how grateful Harry felt for him holding his hand: he hadn’t given it a second thought when the blond had grabbed it, but that might be as close to fear as Draco would show, even though they could be walking into their doom. As much as Draco wanted time to slow down, it seemed to go faster, and within no time at all they were standing at the gates. He felt a bit hysterical, wondering what the bloody hell he was really doing, coming this far. He couldn’t lie to himself, he had pondered more than once about simply giving Harry to the Dark Lord, but he knew he could never do it. There had been a time when Draco believed in the Dark Lord’s plan and principles, but he hadn’t for a long time, long before he and Harry had come together.

“What now?” Harry asked, finally focusing on the task at hand, a serious expression on his face. If he didn’t know better about what was inside, he would say that the castle looked good, mysterious, but not evil. The grounds looked more threatening than the castle, but they still faced one problem, and that was how to get inside.

Draco sighed. “Open the gates, I guess,” he replied, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He watched and began to frown, slightly worried, when Harry took out his wand and pointed it at the gates.

“Alohomora!” he said, and nothing happened. He put his wand back in his robe and turned back to the blond, who had a very amused look on his face now. Harry shrugged his shoulders, feeling a bit dumb. “Shut up, it’s the only one I know.” Draco almost couldn’t keep his lips from twitching, and when Harry grinned sheepishly, Draco shook his head at the other boy. “We could levitate over the gates,” Harry suggested, “Ron and I were able to fly his dad’s car over the gates of Hogwarts.”

“Do you really think that would work?” Draco asked, sounding very skeptical. If Harry thought Hogwarts’ security was impressive at best, he was in for a big surprise. Without waiting for Harry to reply, he went on, “It won’t, and I’m not going to see what would happen if we tried.”

Harry threw his hands up in frustration, moving to sit on a nearby boulder. Draco watched him casually, and then went to sit down next to the other boy. Draco was in no hurry, and he was ninety percent sure that the Dark Lord was inside the castle, getting quite impatient at the two of them, waiting for them to hurry the hell up. He sighed to himself, not believing he had actually agreed to come all this way just to walk into something that had already turned into a trap. How could he have been so stupid just to follow Harry, humor him, and still come all this way before the realization hit? He wasn’t the type for self-sacrifice, and he knew he wouldn’t die for Harry, but he didn’t seem to know what he would do at the moment or not. He felt completely mental.

To top it all off, he had no idea what was going on between the two of them. They weren’t exactly a love, sugar, and sunshine couple, but over the time they’d spent together, even though it was full of stress, vomit, and sex, he had gotten to know the Gryffindor a lot better than he’d imagined. Maybe he had started to develop some feelings for the dark-haired boy in the past few weeks. If anyone had told him he’d be shagging Harry Potter and enjoying it purely for the simple pleasure of it, he’d have hexed them into their next life. If anyone had told him Harry would be expecting his child, and that Draco actually cared, he would have slapped them for thinking something so ridiculous.

It wasn’t so ridiculous now though, and Draco was brought from his thoughts when Harry promptly stood up and stalked over to the gate, stopping in front of them again. He lifted his hands and Draco had no idea what the other boy was on about, but then he did the stupidest thing. Harry pushed the gates, swinging them wide open onto the grounds. Draco stood and joined Harry, dumbfounded that the solution was so bloody simple, yet it was only the beginning. “What a brilliant idea,” he commented, sarcasm infiltrating his words.

Harry turned to him, preening for a moment before he realized what he’d just done. He sighed loudly, too frustrated for words, and he turned and walked through the open gates in a huff, ignoring the other boy and his helpful attitude. Draco was at his side again in a moment, but turned back when he heard a sound. He looked to the bushes outside of the gates, near where they had been sitting, and watched the branches as they were disturbed by something within their sheltering presence. It shouldn’t have been a hopeful thought that the gates would hurry up and close, locking them inside the grounds, since he doubted it would be as easy to get out, but he would rather die in a battle than become something’s lunch.

Harry frowned at Draco, noticing he was looking behind them. He was worried and trying to keep his mind on the good things that could happen, not the bad. “We’re in this together, right?” he asked, drawing Draco’s attention again. The blond was walking close to him, and it meant a lot that he was here with him, even if it was the most ludicrous plan ever executed in the history of bad plans. “You’re not going to leave me to die?”

“Harry … shut up.”

@>*~

Ron looked over at his new girlfriend as they walked back into the castle from the Herbology greenhouses. Even Hermione looked a little tired today on yet another Monday morning. Luckily they had the afternoon off: Professor Sprout had announced there was a staff meeting, so Ron’s plan was to have a nap, but as they were already headed to the library, he was a little skeptical he’d actually get a nap in before supper. As they walked through towering shelves of books to their usual area of tables, Neville and Blaise were already there. There weren’t too many other students in the library, figuring why bother studying if they didn’t have classes that afternoon, but that certainly didn’t deter Hermione, who settled her pile of books onto the table before even saying hello.

Ron had straggled behind a little, pausing in his step to let out a yawn, but he made it there, pulling out a chair beside Neville and looked sleepily towards his roommate. “Hello, Neville,” he said to him, trying to get as comfortable as he could, slouching into the wooden chair.

“Hi, Ron,” he said to the red-haired boy and looked up to see Hermione, arranging her books before she sat down, “Hermione.”

“Oh, hello, Neville,” she said cheerily, smiling at her friend. “Nice work with those spores in Herbology; I was afraid I would be picking them out of my hair for weeks if it weren’t for your help.”

“No problem, that’s what friends are for,” he replied, looking back to his homework to continue writing.

“So,” Hermione started, sitting down and folding her hands over an open book in front of her, “how are you two getting along?” She hoped she didn’t sound too nosy, but Blaise hadn’t even looked up from his book once since they’d arrived. Not that there was anything necessarily wrong with that; Merlin knew she ignored people for books many times during the day, but she had no idea what else to say to try and include the Slytherin boy. Ron didn’t seem at all testy, and Hermione wanted to take advantage of the moment to get to know the other boy.

Blaise and Neville both looked up at her with contented looks, and she had a feeling she already knew the answer, but that wasn’t the point at the moment. “We’re fine,” Blaise answered her, Neville nodding his agreement, smiling at his boyfriend, who gave him a look from the corner of his eye, grinning back. “A few of my housemates found out about me ‘hanging about’ with Neville, but I told them to sod off and I haven’t heard anything since.”

“That’s it?” Ron put in skeptically, sitting up in his chair a bit more. “You just told them to piss off and they did?” That was hard to believe, that the Slytherins would so calmly pass up an opportunity to make fun of anyone, even one of their own. Besides that, it was still difficult to wrap his head around the fact that Blaise actually cared about Neville; he’d seen the looks they gave each other when they thought no one was looking.

“Well, yeah,” Blaise said coolly. “After Draco, I’m second in command. All they said was, ‘Wait until Draco hears about this,’ but I thought to myself that he wasn’t bloody likely to do much about it at all, and I let them stew and walked away.”

“Huh,” Ron commented, not knowing what else to say and a bit jostled by the comment about Draco. Hermione watched the both of them, feeling the tension growing as Ron tried not to think at all, beginning to fiddle with her quill.

“How did you get together, if you don’t mind me asking?” Hermione asked, not grasping very far from the original subject, but it was a way to keep the conversation going without directly irritating anyone, she hoped. “I mean, it’s not everyday that people from opposite ends of the school end up as close as you two.”

“I don’t mind,” Neville said, setting his quill down and closing his book, clearly more interested in talking than his homework for now. “I had been wanting to ask Blaise out at the end of last year, but I was too nervous, and I didn’t even know if he, um,” he started to blush, that same nervousness creeping up again, “liked blokes that way.”

Blaise closed his own book and offered a hand, palm up, on the table for Neville, giving his support. Neville smiled sweetly at his boyfriend and took hold before turning his attention back to Ron and Hermione. Hermione smiled at the two of them, and knew that they clearly were in love. She hadn’t heard the rest of the story yet, but she didn’t have to in order to understand why Neville had wanted to be with Blaise, and why he would be so nervous about it. For him to even mention being nervous, Neville must have been ready to wet his trousers just pondering the thought of talking to Blaise.

No insult to Ron, because Hermione did love him very much, but Blaise was the typical ‘tall, dark, and handsome’ type. He had thick, dark brown hair, perfect eyebrows, chiseled features, perfect lips. His eyes were hazel with a touch of light brown, which made them just a tad bit creepy when they were staring at someone or some thing. And not to mention he had nicely toned muscles everywhere that was proper for Hermione to look; in almost every respect, he was a modern day Adonis. He had to be doing something right, because he was sexy. Hermione almost felt herself blush for a moment, and she averted her eyes from the boys in front of her to straighten her book. Even though Ron was more tall and lanky than dead gorgeous, she was very happy with what she had with him.

“Hannah Abbott was sitting at the same table,” Neville continued, “and I guess I panicked, because I, uhm, started chatting her up instead.” Neville grinned, a bit silly, and he felt strange telling this in front of Blaise, even though the Slytherin knew all about it already; Blaise was watching Neville carefully, interested in hearing the story as it was told, not witnessed.

“You asked her out to make Zabini here jealous?” Ron asked, wanting to poke at the Slytherin, but he decided not to go farther at the look on Blaise’s face. Neville looked a bit affronted at the question for a moment. Hermione mentally sighed and wished she could physically take Ron’s foot out of his mouth, or maybe just sew his mouth shut with her knitting needles.

“Oh, no,” Neville said. “I thought she was nice and pretty and everything, but, well, like I said, I had no clue if Blaise would want to go out with me, and I guess I thought I’d have better luck with Hannah.”

“What happened with Hannah?” Hermione asked quickly, before Ron could open his mouth again. She was thankful Ron hadn’t tried to say much more than he had, and didn’t seem to have much of an inclination to, because she didn’t want anyone to be on unfriendly terms. She was interested in spite of herself, not one to gossip much, but she liked knowing what was going on with her friends; she knew she was behind on the love life gossip that girls usually partook in, since she didn’t really have any girlfriends, except for Ginny, of course.

“We only spent a week together,” he admitted, looking away from Blaise a bit before he continued. “We, uh … we kissed once, but it just hadn’t felt right. At our next date in Hogsmeade, she said we’d be better off just as friends.” Neville shrugged his shoulders. “It was alright with me, since I had a crush on Blaise. We parted ways and she started dating Ernie.”

“Ernie Macmillan?” Hermione asked. “I wondered when those two had finally gotten it together; I hadn’t even known you went out with her, though, Neville.” Hermione knew she was having way too much fun and was simply torturing Ron with the conversation, but he needed to learn how to accept others for their differences. She loved him, but he could be a big arse sometimes. “How did you two finally get together, then?”

“He came straight up to me and asked me to go to Hogsmeade with him the next weekend,” Blaise put in, squeezing Neville’s hand and watching the boy blush. Blaise moved his chair closer to Neville’s, moving their hands under the table, which earned a startled look from Ron, who had watched them disappear into the unknown.

“That was it?” Hermione asked, looking to Ron, whose sudden movement had drawn her attention, but he had almost the same expression of surprise at Neville's boldness on his face. After being so unsure and timid about the whole situation, dating someone else because he couldn’t take a few more steps to get to the right person, he had simply bulldozed his way into it.

Neville smiled shyly at his friends. “After asking Hannah out, I felt a bit encouraged, despite the way it turned out, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. If he said no, I could move on and be disappointed, but I could move on all the same. But, well, he didn’t say no.” Neville turned to his boyfriend, reliving the memory of the look of deep interest in the other boy's expression in his mind. Blaise looked at him and leaned closer to give him a kiss. Ron watched, petrified at the intensity the Slytherin boy was inflicting on his friend, and he suddenly brought himself to clear his throat loudly, almost choking.

Neville was distracted, turning his head towards Ron, but Blaise simply kissed the incidentally offered cheek, just as lovingly as he would have kissed Neville on the lips. Hermione shook her head at Ron, while Neville asked if he was alright, oblivious to the reason why he had abruptly had a coughing fit. Blaise caught Hermione’s eye and they shared a chuckle, before Ron regained composure and glared at his girlfriend having a look with another boy.

“Does Malfoy know about you two?” Ron directed his question at Blaise, still sounding a bit grumpy. He still disliked the majority of Slytherins, and before this year, he wouldn't have liked any of them. But he was beginning to see that not all of them were as evil as they had seemed. Even though Ron's thoughts on Draco hadn't completely changed, he couldn't deny that the blond wasn't that bad after all. The same principle applied to Blaise.

“He knows I’m with someone from another house, but he doesn’t care who it is. He has his own life and I have mine,” Blaise answered, leaning back in his chair. “I doubt he’d blame me, most of the girls in my house are dogs, and the boys are dumb as a stick; knowing that, it’s not unusual for either of us to be dating a Gryffindor, even before he got with Potter.”

"What do you mean 'before' he got with Harry?" Hermione asked, wondering about the dynamics of her friend's relationship. She also wondered why Blaise sounded so curious about separating his life from Draco, his best friend. Was there something more between them, either Harry and Draco or Draco and Blaise? Harry had been so secretive, and rightly so, but had she missed something in his actions that could have explained more about their ‘relationship’? It didn’t thrill her to think of the boy who repeatedly called her names to be sitting beside her best friend in the Great Hall, feeding Harry tidbits of food or something just as mushy and ridiculous. Draco didn’t seem the type to ‘date’ anyone, either, so she didn’t think she had to worry about it that much.

“Well, Draco isn’t exactly new to the dating scene, and wasn’t exactly quiet or reserved about his goings on, either.” Ron looked a bit confused, and Hermione was grateful for Blaise’s discretion at an explicit explanation, since she didn’t think Ron could handle hearing about Draco’s sex life. “One day, he seemed simply to stop dating. Pansy had her knickers in a twist about it, and I believe I heard a couple of Ravenclaws gossiping about how Draco may have finally found ‘the one’, as he hadn’t been around for a few days, which I suppose was strange enough to warrant the comment.”

Ron looked like he was about ready to toss something across the room. Blaise spared him a glance before finishing up his story. "After that, I heard nothing, and I knew Draco hadn't been about with anyone. I had no idea what he was up to until I saw Potter in our dorm room and the fact that Draco didn't seem the least bit angry or surprised to see him there." Hermione let that all sink in, and the four of them were quiet. They tried to keep the conversation to topics that didn’t cause uncomfortable silences, but she supposed that it was only a matter of time before anything came back to the matters at hand.

It certainly put a bit of a different spin on Harry’s relationship with Draco. She thought she knew how Harry felt about it, but maybe what she should have been thinking about was how Draco was feeling about it. Clearly the Slytherin had changed, but how much and in what ways were completely a mystery, and probably were to everyone but Harry. It was making more sense that the two of them had run off to find someone who could understand what was going on with them and between them, even though it didn’t make the situation any less dangerous. As long as Harry listened to his friends, whether he agreed or not, he should at least take heed and apply some consideration for their opinions. She wouldn’t care if he stayed with Malfoy until they were old and grey, but at least she could move on knowing that he’d at least heard her out.

Ron had snatched a book from Hermione’s pile and was flipping though it, not even reading anything on the pages; Hermione wondered if he was even looking at the pictures. Neville had started to jot things down on a few papers and was gradually closing his books. Blaise had continued reading, ready to go when Neville was, just as he had been when they had arrived. There was no use right now to try and make the best of the situation and try to sit together, and in an unspoken agreement, Neville and Blaise stood, said goodbye to them, and made their way from the table.

Ron sighed when they were out of sight, and he shoved the book away, crossing his arms over the table and laying his head down on them. Hermione watched him stare blankly at a shelf of books, knowing he was irritated and to leave him be for the time. He was probably still mad about Malfoy being anything but a rival to Harry. He didn’t like it one bit, but he’d had time to, grudgingly, come to terms with it. He loved Harry more than his own siblings, though that wasn’t saying much, considering his siblings, but he still thought Harry was being an idiot taking up with Malfoy.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Hermione sighed to herself and flipped a few pages, dipped her quill, and began working on her Charms assignment. Since they were here, they might as well take advantage of the quiet to get some work done. It would be nice for Ron to work alongside her, but she knew he needed a minute. He would end up asleep and snoring within minutes, but after pulling him through the previous conversation and stress, Hermione thought she’d let this one slide.

@>*~

Snape awoke with a start, and was about to begin wondering why, when the searing pain in his arm filtered through his defenses and answered the question for him. He sighed, in frustration and pain, as he sat up in his bed. He’d been sleeping, albeit fitfully, but his tiredness didn’t dull his senses, and his ears pricked to attention when he heard a scurrying sound near the floor. “Pettigrew,” he growled to himself, and to the rat if he was still in the room. The door was open a crack, just enough for the pot-bellied rodent to slip in, out, and barely be noticed, despite Snape having closed and locked it before lying down last night.

He hadn’t even taken off his boots before lying down, knowing he might have to leave suddenly, and he was certainly not proved wrong. He’d deal with Wormtail later, right now he had to find the Dark Lord; to be summoned as anxiously as his Mark had burned, it must mean something big, something like the arrival of some not-so-unexpected guests. Snape went to the door, swinging it open wide, almost in hopes of finding Wormtail still standing outside, but he wasn’t there, and Snape continued hurriedly down the hall.

As he walked, the sound of his footsteps was the only thing to keep him company until the sound of students filtered into his ears, and soon a few sparse groups were sharing the corridor with Snape, going in the other direction. He watched them watching him cautiously, yet he knew they were used to his type of presence. It wasn’t a secret to anyone in the school that the Death Eaters were there, nor was it the first time the school had been used for darker purposes than simply teaching things that were forbidden elsewhere. Snape left them in his dust, and turned around a corner, almost to run right into Peter Pettigrew. “What were you doing skulking around in my room?” the taller man asked without missing a beat, eyeing the other man.

“I-I-I, uhm,” he cleared his throat, “uh…” Peter continued stuttering, trying to look anywhere but at Snape, and before either of them could say another word, Pettigrew turned and almost ran down the hall away from Snape, metal hand shining dully as he disappeared into the dark while still looking back over his shoulder at the imposing man. He was irritated beyond belief at Wormtail, and after such a shifty display of how much of a rat he really was, Snape had more than half a mind to follow after the other man. He was suddenly overtaken by loud footsteps echoing in the halls, followed by many voices murmuring behind him. He turned to see a large group of students making their way to their next class.

Snape still wanted to go after Wormtail, who was too far away now to follow. He’d never catch him, and would most likely go in circles; he might as well turn around and head the other way, since the halls and floors might have shifted that much in the time he’d wasted. He would get a chance to interrogate Pettigrew when the time came, but for now he still had to join his fellow Death Eaters for the Dark Lord to relay his orders. A breach in the magic of the warding on the gates surely would have been felt if those two were stupid enough to walk onto the grounds.

On second thought, Snape knew that was probably the smartest thing to do. Instead of lingering outside for someone to notice them and have a trap set for the moment they walked through the doors, they would hopefully try to get inside and hide before anyone could spot them. Snape was brought out of his thoughts when he turned another corner and passed another group of students. He paused a moment, watching the group, half with their hoods up, impossible to recognize in the dark corridors or in half the classrooms, for that matter. A thought came to him as he watched them fade into the depths of the hall. Perhaps....

@>*~

Harry and Draco made their way quickly across the grounds, sprinting and dashing around thick tree trunks and squat boulders towards the the front gate of the castle. Harry gave out a startled yelp when he was suddenly yanked behind a tree by Draco’s firm grip on his arm. He opened his mouth, wanting to know what the other boy was doing, only to close it at seeing Draco’s finger on his own lips, demanding silence. He looked expectantly at Draco, waiting to hear what the other boy had planned, and by the telling gleam in his grey eyes, he knew there was a plan.

Draco took a moment to peek around the tree, looking at Harry didn’t know what, but from the stiff stance of his companion, he reckoned it was important. Harry chanced a peek in the direction Draco was looking, turning his attention back to Draco as the blond started to speak.

“There are sentries guarding the entrance into the school,” Draco began, keeping his voice low so as not to alert anyone to their presence. “Every few minutes, they patrol up and down along the pathway circling the castle. Now, listen closely,” Draco said, pausing a moment to be sure he had the dark-haired boy’s full attention. Harry nodded at Draco to continue, wondering where this train of thought was going. “When I say to, I want you to run; don’t stop until you get inside. I’ll be right behind you. Understand?” His eyes were sharp, stern, and if Harry dared to assume, apprehensive. Harry took a deep breath before nodding his understanding. It sounded like a good plan, but with the way his luck had been going recently, he wouldn’t have been surprised if something unexpected suddenly happened before the two of them could reach the inside of the school.

Draco glanced around the tree once more, eyeing the sentries as they walked past the entrance. After a moment, Draco quickly whispered, “Go!”

At the prompt, Harry took off towards the entrance, running as fast as his legs would carry him. He hadn’t had a chance to look behind him to see if Draco was following him or not, but he didn’t relish getting caught by potential Death Eaters, so he hadn’t bothered looking until he got inside. As soon as he made it in, he turned the corner so he wouldn’t be visible from the outside.

A second later, he felt Draco run into him from behind, Draco having been unprepared for Harry’s sudden stop. They stood there a moment, straining to hear for any sign that they might have been spotted running towards the school. When no one came running and shouting after them, they breathed out in relief.

Draco took a moment to get his bearings straight. From what he could remember, the castle was notorious for its shifting walls and floors. Almost, but not exactly, like the staircases at Hogwarts. “Our robes and smaller body builds will give us away. We’ll need to find a dorm room and borrow some robes,” Draco told Harry as he led them down the hall.

“Smaller frames?” Harry asked, following closely alongside Draco. When Viktor Krum and his classmates had stayed the year for the Triwizard Tournament, they hadn’t looked all that big. Sure, they’d been taller and more muscular than he’d been, but then again, they’d been in their final year of school while he’d been a gangly fourth year.

“Yes,” Draco replied with a nod. “Most students here come from a colder climate, plus they’re just bigger, to put it simply.”

They continued down the hall, Draco thanking any deity out there that the school hadn’t shifted on them yet. He stopped in front of a portrait of a beheaded man and spoke to it. Harry’s eyes vaguely widened in surprise, but then he shouldn’t have been all that shocked to hear Draco speak, as he’d spoken a range of languages since their departure. The portrait swung open immediately after Draco had finished talking to it. As they walked through, Harry whispered to Draco, “Did you give it a password?”

“No. I told it who my father was. I wasn’t sure if it’d still work since I never wound up coming here for school,” Draco replied, making his way across the common room towards the boys’ dormitories.

As he followed after the blond, Harry looked around the room. It contained chairs and tables just like the common rooms back at Hogwarts, but the tapestries hanging on the walls seemed to show nothing but violent battles. He was glad he had never come here for school, because he wasn’t sure he’d have been able to stand all the dark themes.

Draco rounded a corner, stopping in front of a weathered door. He turned the handle and pushed it open slowly, just in case someone was inside getting dressed or otherwise engaged in personal business. Harry had to wonder where everyone was; probably in a class somewhere, he hoped, since Draco hadn’t seemed too worried about getting caught.

Draco opened up one of the wardrobes close to where the door was, pulling out two blood red robes and tossing one to Harry. Harry almost caught it with his face since he hadn’t been paying attention, looking around the room still. Once he had the robe in his hands, he put it on, noticing how much warmer it was compared to his own school robes. Draco did likewise, grabbing two furs as well so they’d appear more bulky. Draco turned to look at Harry, making sure he was set straight and decent. Once they were dressed and could conceivably pass as Durmstrang students, Draco gave Harry a look that conveyed ‘stay close and follow my lead’ as they made their way back out into the hall and into the main school.

They walked down the hall again, which had shifted while they had been in the dorm room, blocking the way they’d come. Harry continued to follow Draco, arranging his fringe as much as possible to try and hide his telltale scar. He pressed his palm to it, hissing quietly, as it had begun to throb even more since they’d arrived at the dark school.

They turned down a different hall, suddenly coming upon a group of surly looking boys. Draco continued on, ignoring the group, and was about to walk around them when one of them spoke up. “Aw, would you look at this. Little ickle first years,” a dark-haired, dark-skinned boy said, laughing along with his mates.

Draco continued to ignore them, trying to usher Harry past them. He didn’t think it wise to draw too much attention to themselves, especially since he was worried Harry might accidentally get hit in the stomach. They didn’t get very far when another boy stepped in front of the two Hogwarts students, blocking their path.

“Now, now, we didn’t say you two could go. We’re not finished,” the first boy spoke again.

“What do you want?” Draco asked suspiciously, not liking where this was possibly going.

The dark-haired boy, who Draco suspected was the group’s leader, stepped in front of Draco, invading his personal space. “My mates and I think you’ve got great potential to be our little whore,” he whispered just loud enough for all of them to hear, causing the others in the group to laugh. Draco pulled out his wand from its holding place inside his robes, but before Draco knew what was happening, he heard Harry give a startled yell.

“Take your hands off me!” Harry shouted, struggling to get out of the boy’s grasp. Harry had been in the process of pulling out his own wand when one of the other boys had grabbed him, pinning his arms behind his back.

“Let him go,” Draco said through clenched teeth, trying to keep his body as calm as possible, so they wouldn’t try to take out their anger on Harry as revenge against Draco if they knew he was worried about him.

“I don’t think so,” the leader said, laughing with his mates. “See, my mates and I like ‘em frisky.”

Draco growled low in his throat, pointed his wand at the boy holding Harry, and shouted, “Stupefy!”

The boy who’d been holding Harry was hit in the face with the spell, the only part Draco was able to aim at, thanking the heavens for Harry’s shorter height. The boy let go of his hold, collapsing to the floor as he was stunned. The others pulled out their own wands, but the leader growled out, “No! This little bitch is mine!”

The others in his group backed away, smirking towards Draco. Their leader was known for his dueling skills, apparently. Draco cracked his neck, getting into position, keeping one eye on the leader and the other on the main group. Harry had his own wand out this time, having retrieved it from its holding place within his robes as soon as the stunned boy had let him go.

The leader first came out with “Crucio!" Draco blocked the spell with a hiss and some effort, erecting a Shielding Charm.

Before the leader could utter another spell, Draco shouted, “Petrificus Totalus!” The leader hadn’t been expecting this, stiffening and falling back onto the floor with a wincing ‘thud’.

The leader’s gang gaped at Draco as the other boy fell to the floor. They wisely backed off, dragging the stiff boy down the hall before turning a corner and out of sight. Draco didn’t wait to see if they’d come back and grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him along behind him in the opposite direction of the troublemaking boys. Harry gave no sign of protest at being jerked around this time, wanting to get as far away as possible himself.

They continued walking down the hall, looking behind themselves occasionally, making sure they weren’t being followed when they suddenly ran into someone. “Really!” came an indignant voice, presumably the person they’d bumped into by accident.

“Sorry,” both boys said quickly, hoping it was a teacher and not a Death Eater they’d run into.

“Really now,” the professor began, eyeing the two boys as she smoothed out her robes, “What’s so important that has you lot running down corridors?”

The two boys looked at each other, silently communicating whether or not to risk it and ask this professor, who oddly enough looked almost exactly like Professor McGonagall. After a moment, Draco turned to address the Professor. “We’re looking for Professor Snape. Do you know where he is?”

The Professor raised an eyebrow at Draco; he seemed very familiar to her. ‘Ah, yes,’ she thought. She remembered now. She’d seen his father strolling the corridors on the Dark Lord’s business. “Well, you boys are in the right area. Just continue down this corridor, take a right, then a left. That is, of course, providing the walls haven’t shifted by then,” she said, looking over her glasses at them. Draco thanked the Professor and took off down the corridor with Harry following after him.

The Professor warily watched the two boys head down the corridor. She wasn’t sure why exactly they were looking for Professor Snape, but she wagered it wasn’t anything good. She wasn’t particularly allied with the Dark Lord, but she taught at Durmstrang because she quite fancied the Dark Arts. She pulled out her pocket watch, noticing the time. She’d better hurry or she’d be late to her own class. She glanced once more down the corridor the boys had run down, before turning to hurry to her class.

@*>~

Snape had walked quickly back to his room; he knew that no one would be checking the Floos at the moment since the Dark Lord had most of the Death Eaters searching high and low for the two boys. Once inside his room, he stopped in front of his fireplace, knelt down, and grabbed a bit of Floo powder from its holding place. He tossed some into the fire before saying, “Hogwarts, Professor Lupin.” The flames rose up high, green fire almost licking the mantel, before dying back down to its original flare. Snape quickly stuck his head closer to the flames. “Lupin,” he said urgently.

Remus had been on his way out of his office; it was early still, and he had a few errands he needed to run before his first class of the morning when he thought he’d heard a familiar voice. He paused a moment, straining to hear. He listened hard for a bit, but didn't hear anything. Lupin shrugged, thinking he may have been hearing things due to fatigue. He made his way back towards the door when he heard the voice again, only louder this time.

“Lupin, come quickly.”

Remus ran back towards the source of the voice, the voice he’d know anywhere. Kneeling quickly in front of his fireplace, he saw Snape’s face peering at him from within the flames. “Severus? What is it? Why are you fire calling me; aren’t you worried you’ll get caught?” Remus asked in rapid-fire succession, glad to see the Potions master wasn’t hurt.

Snape held himself back from rolling his eyes at the other man. “I don’t have time for idle chit-chat, so listen: I haven’t found Malfoy or Potter yet, and neither have any of the Death Eaters. I presume they’re trying to blend in with the other students here and doing so with moderate skill, since they’re in the same building as the Dark Lord and haven’t been captured yet. Of course,” Snape continued, glancing over his shoulder occasionally in case one of the Death Eaters decided to barge in suddenly. “This whole mess could have been the Dark Lord’s plan from the beginning. Potter never did get the hang of Occlumency.”

“Well, whose fault was it to stop training him?” Lupin snappishly replied, frowning at the disembodied head of Snape.

Snape sighed. “We don’t have time to argue semantics, Lupin,” Severus growled, glaring at the other man. “I need you to Apparate to Lena, Russia.”

Remus’ mouth fell open. “Are you mad?” What in the world was Severus planning?

“I assure you, Lupin, I am in my right mind,” Snape tersely answered. “Let the Headmaster know if you must, but I need you there to spy for me.”

Remus sighed and nodded; seemed he’d be going to Lena. Lupin opened his mouth to say more, but Snape’s head had disappeared, leaving the normal amber glow of the fire in the logs. He hoped Severus would be all right, especially since the Dark Lord or his followers could very well have detected him.

Remus stood up and made his way to his office door, not wanting to waste any time and hoping Dumbledore wouldn’t be too upset his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor decided to take an unscheduled trip. Remus made his way through the school and down the lawns before walking past the gates and Apparating to Lena.

He appeared in the town of Lena, quickly heading towards the main streets from the alley he’d Apparated into. He slowed his pace, trying to look like any other tourist out for a stroll to take in the sights; not three meters from the alley, he suddenly stopped. Cursing himself for not having done it before leaving Hogwarts, he quickly but causally raised the hood of his robes. He’d spotted the telltale robes of a Death Eater; he was just very thankful that the man’s back had been towards him.

He had no idea what Severus had planned, but he couldn’t help admiring him. He’d actually missed the grouchy man when he had to go off, per the Headmaster’s orders, to Durmstrang. Lupin knew he was beginning to have feelings for the Potions professor; he just wasn’t sure if anything would come of it. Yes, he and Severus were becoming something akin to friends, but he knew Severus was still angry about the incident in the Shrieking Shack all those years ago, which he’d had no part in whatsoever.

Remus sighed at his thoughts. Maybe he should lie down or something. He was feeling very taxed by the long distance he’d Apparated, and he just wanted to relax and maybe sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. Severus was counting on him to scout out Lena. He hoped all the Apparating Harry had to endure hadn’t been too hard on him. It was tiring enough when one was in good health, but it was probably worse when one was with child. Lupin shook his head of distracting thoughts, and focused on helping Snape.

He spent most of what little daylight he had left lurking about the dark wizarding town of Lena. He must have been to what felt like twenty pubs, on the lookout for anything amiss. The worst thing about this whole trip was how in heaven’s name had Harry and Malfoy been able to traipse amongst the streets without getting seen once? Or had they?

Remus sighed again, stepping inside the last smoky pub on the street he’d been checking. His step faltered a moment when he finally found what he assumed he’d been looking for. Right in the middle of the pub were two Death Eaters. If their robes hadn’t given them away, the two masks laid out on the table in front of them had. Remus guardedly made his way to the bar, weaving around enough patrons to keep out of sight of them, and ordered himself a drink, all the while keeping an eye on the two robed figures. He accepted his drink and paid the barkeep as he sat on a stool, thankfully within earshot of the two men.

The two Death Eaters didn't say much of importance: talking mostly of their families and Quidditch; nothing Remus really needed to know. After an hour of listening to the two men talking, Remus was about to move on when he suddenly heard Snape’s name mentioned. Remus sat up then, hand curling around his glass, straining to hear.

“I’m pretty sure Snape’s on our side, mate,” the Death Eater closest to Lupin said to his companion. “He basically spilled about that Potter boy, saying he was on his way here to Lena.”

“I reckon you’re right,” said the other man, though his tone sounded embittered to Lupin. “Why do you think all of us are out scouting these bloody cold areas?”

Remus froze, anger welling up inside of him. The glass in his hand shattered suddenly at hearing what the two men had said about Severus. _Did he really give Harry up to the Dark Lord?_ He thought frantically to himself. He shook his head to himself at how ridiculous that sounded to him. Dumbledore would never allow Snape to continue helping the Order if he’d suddenly changed sides. Snape must have had to tell the Dark Lord what he’d wanted to hear to keep himself in the dark wizard’s good graces. Either that, or the Dark Lord found out about Harry himself. Remus sighed quietly, wondering just what the two boys had been thinking to go off after Snape.

He sat quietly at the bar, hoping Severus was all right and not at the mercy of the Dark Lord. Merlin knew what would happen to Severus if Voldemort found out which side Severus was really on. He couldn’t help his feelings for the other man; he’d never mentioned how he felt about Severus to the Potions master. Remus wasn’t sure if he felt the same way and he didn’t want his heart broken if he was rejected, so he kept quiet, and just enjoyed the fact that he at least had the man’s friendship, if not respect.

Remus was brought out of his thoughts when he noticed the pub go suspiciously quiet. He turned a bit on his stool, making sure he wasn’t being obvious in his spying of the two hooded figures, and watched as they threw some money onto the table before grabbing their masks and heading towards the door. Remus waited a beat before following after them. He sighed in irritation when he got outside and couldn’t see the men at all. They must’ve been called by Voldemort, and simply Apparated away.

Remus wandered around, looking through shop windows and such, wondering what he was supposed to do now. All Severus had told him was to scout out Lena and look for anything unusual going on. Everything had seemed normal except for the two Death Eaters he’d overheard and that one who thankfully hadn’t seen him. He supposed he should stay and wait for word from Severus. He really hated leaving Hogwarts in the middle of the day without a word to Dumbledore, but he trusted Severus, and _more_ than trusted him, and knew there was some method to his madness, even if he wasn’t sure what it was.

And he hoped Harry would come through all of this relatively unscathed. He also wondered where Harry would live after all was said and done. Remus knew the boy wouldn’t be going back to his Aunt and Uncle if he could help it. Although, would he decide to stay with his father’s only remaining friend, or would he choose to live with Malfoy since they had a child together? And, if Harry chose Lupin, would he want Malfoy with him, and could Remus honestly say at the moment that he’d welcome Malfoy into his home?

@>*~

Draco and Harry still hadn’t found Professor Snape. They’d followed the directions the Professor had given them, but by the time they’d gotten to where she said he’d most likely be, the walls had changed and they found themselves more or less where they’d started. As a result, they had to spend the night under Harry’s invisibility cloak in a broom cupboard. Harry had fallen asleep cuddled up next to Draco, but the blond kept waking up at every little sound that got too close to where they were hiding. They couldn’t use the invisibility cloak to roam around since there were wards surrounding the school that would alert anyone to them. They were just lucky no one had thought to ward the broom cupboard, but then not many people had that type of cloak or would want to sleep in a cupboard.

The next morning, Draco was tired and cranky from lack of sleep, but he knew Harry required it more then he did. They needed to find Snape, and soon; even if he wasn’t able to do much for them, they could at least feel like they had accomplished something and finally get to talk with him.

They tried to blend in with the other students milling about, on their way to their next classes or what have you. Draco was lost in thought, distracted, when he suddenly froze; he felt Harry walk into him from behind when the blond suddenly stopped. Up ahead were two hooded figures that Draco recognized as Death Eaters; he knew who most of them were, thanks to his father. Draco spotted a classroom across the corridor they were standing in and dragged Harry quickly inside. Both boys were surprised to see the Professor from the other day; this must have been her class.

Draco pulled Harry after him as they made their way up to the teacher’s desk. “Pardon us, Professor,” Draco started, drawing the professor’s attention.

“Hello again, boys,” she greeted. “Were you able to locate Professor Snape?”

Draco shook his head. “No, ma’am. The walls changed on us before we could. Would it be all right if we sit in on your class? My friend and I,” he said, indicating Harry, who was letting Draco do most of the talking since even with the shifting corridors, he seemed to know his way around the dark school. “We’d be first years, of course, but we wanted to see if this would be a school we might like to attend.”

The Professor eyed the boys suspiciously; they were a little old to be attending any school as first years. “I don’t see the harm in it. Just please be respectful and don’t disturb my class.”

“We won’t. Thank you, Professor. Come on,” Draco said, pulling Harry behind him. They found two empty seats at the back of the class. Draco raised the hood of his robes to cover most of his face and Harry followed his cue, doing likewise.

The Professor was pretty sure they weren’t telling the truth. The boys were acting very suspicious for one, and with their accents, one would think they’d be attending that school up in Scotland. She supposed this was why the two boys had been looking for Snape, but then he wasn’t really a teacher at Durmstrang.

Draco and Harry settled back as the class began to fill up. No one noticed them, or if they did, they didn’t seem to care. Harry was surprised to find out the subject of the class. He knew this school taught the Dark Arts, but he couldn’t believe they were actually teaching the students the Unforgivable Curses. He supposed he should be glad that they were using insects rather than each other, but of course, the school would have had some major explaining to do if all their students died from performing the Killing Curse on each other.

An hour had gone by before the class was finally dismissed. The two boys stayed back until all the students left before they headed out into the corridor themselves. They continued wandering through the school in search of Snape; they didn’t want to wander too far, lest they find themselves completely and utterly lost.

“Well, this is just brilliant,” Draco growled, throwing his hands into the air out of frustration. “We’ve wasted all this time walking around and there’s no sign of Snape anywhere. Please tell me why I went with you again?”

Harry frowned. “We needed to talk to him,” he simply replied, fingering a loose thread on the hem of his borrowed robes.

“Talk to him about what? All we had to do was wait for him to return to the school, but oh no, we had to go after him. I must’ve been out of my damn mind,” Draco seethed, running his hands through his hair in agitation, making his hair stand up in little spikes about his head.

“Well,” Harry flatly said, trying to ignore the blond’s ire, “At least we haven’t run into any Death Eaters?”

“Pfft!” Draco scoffed. “With our luck, they’re probably hiding in the toilets, waiting for that opportunity when one of us needs to take a piss.”

“Um … Draco?” Harry said suddenly, facing the opposite direction the blond was standing.

Draco whirled around, an impatient scowl on his face. “What?”

But his dark-haired companion wasn’t eyeing him, and Draco was doubly frustrated for the boy not even having the tact to let him cuss him out properly. “Erm, those two blokes overthere are staring at us,” Harry said, gesturing with his head down the corridor towards the boys he’d pointed out.

Draco whipped around, hand on his wand as he did so. “Hmm,” Draco started suspiciously, swollen anger lessened quite a bit, “I don’t think they’re You-Know-Who’s minions.”

“How can you tell?”

“I don’t recognize them. Probably just more blokes after my arse,” Draco said, eyeing the two robed figures warily.

“Well, it is a nice arse,” Harry said smiling, trying to diffuse the tension he could sense radiating from the blond in leaps and bounds.

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes at Harry. “Funny, no really.” Draco grabbed Harry’s sleeve and pulled him along. “Come on, let’s keep looking.” He led Harry around the corridor, having to backtrack a few times due to the shifting walls.

“Say, is this an all boy school? I haven’t seen any girls yet,” Harry thought to ask, looking around as if for the first time.

“There are girls here, just not very many, and we wouldn’t be able to pass as girls even if we tried,” Draco replied.

Harry kept quiet for the moment at that as they continued their walk down and around corridors, hoping eventually they’d have to run into Snape, even if by accident. The odds weren’t that much against them, were they? They just hoped Snape hadn’t already left, which would have really sucked.

@>*~


	11. Chapter 11

Hours had gone by and still there’d been no sign of Professor Snape. Draco had become more and more irritated the later it became, with no sign of their Potions master. As they continued down the ever-changing corridors, Harry suddenly stopped, pulling at Draco’s sleeve to get his attention.

Draco felt the tug on his sleeve and stopped, wondering if anything was wrong. “What is it, Harry?” he asked.

“There’s Snape,” Harry replied, pointing further up the corridor.

Draco’s eyes trailed along Harry’s arm to the area where the boy was pointing and sighed in relief when he saw Snape, walking briskly down the corridor. Harry could have sworn he heard the blond mutter “thank God!” as they hurried their steps so they’d reach Snape before the school decided to shift on them again. Once they were close enough to their professor, Draco pulled urgently at his Head of House’s robe sleeve.

Snape whirled around at the tug he felt, a scowl fixed on his face and mouth open, ready to demand what someone thought they were doing yanking on him, when he caught sight of the two boys.

Harry thought for a brief second that he had seen relief flash across Snape’s features before the look disappeared altogether to be replaced with a heated glare directed towards him and Draco. Without a word spoken by anyone, Snape had roughly grabbed hold of both boys’ upper arms and dragged them through the nearest doorway into an empty classroom, slamming the door shut behind them.

Turning around in a swirl of robes to face the two boys, Snape growled out, “Have the two of you completely lost your minds!” Draco opened his mouth to reply, but closed it right away at the glare he received from his Head of House. “I did not ask for you to speak,” Snape said, interrupting the blond before he could say anything at all. “I cannot believe the risk you two took to get here. Did you know the Dark Lord is here, at this very moment, in this school, and knows that the two of you are here?” Snape paused a moment, trying to even his breathing and collect himself before going on. “I’d expected something like this from Potter,” Snape looked at Harry as he said this, making Harry frown at the way he said it, like he was stupid or something, “since he’s not in his right mind due to his condition; but you…” Snape continued before he turned his attention fully to Draco, scowling at the blond. “Mister Malfoy, you should have known better than to leave school grounds to come here.”

“Sir,” Harry interjected, “it was my idea to come here. I’d wanted to talk to you about…” he trailed off, not really sure what he had wanted to see Snape for in the first place. He knew that it had been important to him at the time, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why exactly he had wanted to see Snape immediately rather than wait until the man had gone back to Hogwarts.

“Mister Potter, I don’t care what your reasons were,” Snape snapped back in reply. “If we were back at Hogwarts, I’d have handed out detentions to both of you every night until you both left the school and deducted four hundred points from each of you. Now,” Snape crossed his arms, scowl still in place, “I want the two of you to listen to me closely. After we leave this classroom, I want you both to go right up the first set of stairs you come to and down the hall to the fourth door on your left. Be sure not to dally: the walls and floors shift every five minutes give or take,” Snape said to the pair of them.

The boys nodded their heads in understanding, not wanting to be somewhere where anyone could come in contact with them and ask questions. Snape turned to head towards the door, but turned to address Draco. “I’d almost forgotten,” Snape began, “your father is here, Mister Malfoy, so I suggest the two of you continue to stay out of sight.”

“Does it really make a difference if he knows I’m here or not?” Draco replied, not surprised in the least that he’d somehow escaped from prison, most likely with help from his fellow Death Eaters on the Dark Lord’s orders, no less. “Besides, it’s just one more person we’re hiding from.”

“It wasn’t in any of the papers before we left,” Harry added, drawing the attention of the others to him. “I mean, absolutely no mention of it at all.”

“That is because he did not escape; he was set loose by the Dementors,” Snape curtly replied, looking at Harry. “The Dark Lord has recruited them once more into his ranks.”

Harry frowned, not looking at Snape. That would mean that there might be Dementors surrounding Durmstrang, and he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to fend them off this time. It wasn’t that he had forgotten how, but more along the lines of he had not quite felt up to par since finding out he was pregnant. He had assumed, after he found out, that this might have been the reason behind him feeling poorly and tired all the time.

He’d thought, at the time, it was mainly due to his mind focusing solely on what had happened between him and Draco, now he assumed it was the pregnancy. Also, the way he felt, what with Voldemort being so close, actually, here in the school itself, he had no idea if he’d be able to do it at all. He was brought out of his thoughts when Draco began to speak. “I just don’t see how my father being here can make much of a difference now.”

Snape sighed to himself in utter frustration; clearly the younger Malfoy wasn’t thinking. But before he could say anything further on the matter, Snape scowled in irritation as his Dark Mark began to burn. “I have to go,” Snape informed as he turned back to the door, pulled it open, and walked quickly out into the corridor. Harry watched as his robes swirled with the movement and flared out behind Snape from the force of air displaced in his wake. It might have looked more dramatic, in Harry’s opinion, if Snape wasn’t basically running off with his tail between his legs to see Voldemort.

The two boys stood right outside the door of the empty classroom for a few minutes, watching Snape disappear down the corridor. After a moment, Draco grabbed hold of the baggy sleeve of Harry’s too big Durmstrang robe and dragged him along as they made their way down the corridor themselves. They moved as quickly as they could towards the stairs Snape had mentioned, up the steps and down the corridor until they came to stand in front of the door Snape had told them about. Draco turned the door handle and almost sank to the floor in relief. It wasn’t that he thought Snape would set a trap or something else as unexpected, but he just didn’t like to assume things would all go well, especially seeing as how they’d basically had walked up to the Dark Lord’s front door.

Draco pushed open the door and the two boys walked into the room. It seemed that their Potions professor had sent them to a supply cupboard. As they looked around they saw a few mops, brooms, some cleaning supplies, and rags: both clean and dirty. Draco shook his head, muttering curses at no one Harry could hear clearly. Although, the room was a right sight nicer than the broom cupboard had been: more room (more than the other had, anyhow), and looking about the floor, not as many insects to watch out for.

Harry looked around the storage room before moving over to a fairly clean area and sitting down onto the floor. He shivered a bit involuntarily as the cold stone under his rear soaked through his trousers. Draco sighed as if a great burden had been thrust upon him as he joined the other boy on the floor, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders to help warm him up a bit with his added body heat.

Harry smiled his thanks at the blond and sighed, trying to get comfortable, which seemed almost impossible, as the floor wasn’t about to become soft and fluffy. They sat in companionable silence, each one lost in their thoughts. “Draco?” Harry began quietly, breaking the silence.

“Hmm?” Draco tiredly replied. He hadn’t slept yet, unable to due to the noises that had kept him up most of the night, afraid someone would find them and drag them, kicking and screaming, to the Dark Lord.

Harry paused, not sure how to bring up the subject. He was curious though, and thought it better to just come out and say what he was thinking. “Do you reckon our child is a boy or a girl?”

Draco froze, wondering why now, of all times, Harry would bring up the sex of their child. Sighing quietly to himself, he said, “I’ve never really given it any thought, to tell the truth. If it was up to my father, he’d probably push for a boy to carry on the Malfoy name, but seeing as this child has two fathers, I’m not sure whose surname it’d get.” Draco was telling the truth; with everything that had happened since they’d first left Hogwarts to go on this poorly-thought out ‘adventure’, he hadn’t thought about what sex their child was.

“Couldn’t our child have both our names? I don’t think one has to be married to do so,” Harry said, leaning back against Draco’s arm, almost cuddling up against the blond as the room they were in began to get a bit chillier as the sun outside the castle began to set.

Draco shifted a bit when Harry mentioned the word ‘married’. He knew Harry wasn’t asking about getting married, but it still nettled Draco a bit. He wasn’t sure why, since he wasn’t against it, in and of itself, but mainly because he’d suddenly had thoughts of the two of them marrying and living off in some cottage somewhere. “You’re right, but would it be Malfoy-Potter, or Potter-Malfoy? Or would we combine the two into some off form, say Palfoy? Or even Motter?” Draco said, grinning at the small snort of laughter this produced from Harry.

Still chuckling, Harry said, “I think Potter-Malfoy would be good. Besides, it flows better.” Draco smiled at the other boy, leaning over to place a quick kiss onto his lips. Harry raised a hand, placing it behind Draco’s head to keep him in place as he kissed back hungrily, mouths partly open as their tongues slid gently against each other. After a moment, the two parted, catching their breaths. Harry snuggled closer to Draco and closed his eyes. He hadn’t mentioned actual baby names to Draco since he didn’t think the blond would have wanted to discuss it. He knew Draco still had a hard time thinking there really was a baby within him and besides, every time he’d looked into a children’s clothing store, Draco would get annoyed and pull him away.

Harry wanted to name their baby after his parents, but since he didn’t know what sex it would be, he sort of settled on Jamie, since it was a neutral name that could be applied to either gender and was very close to his father’s name. Letting out a deep breath, Harry finally succumbed to sleep, Draco following shortly after.

@>*~

It was about ten minutes after lunch had ended for the day; students were making their way out of the Great Hall on their way to their next class. Ron and Hermione were following the flow of seventh years all heading to Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Once inside the classroom, they took their usual seats up front, near the professor’s desk.

Silence descended among the students as they watched, in surprise, as Professor Dumbledore walked down the aisle to the teacher’s desk. As soon as he reached the desk, he turned so he was looking out at the students, seated at their desks, wondering what the Headmaster was doing in their classroom, instead of Professor Lupin. “Good afternoon! I’m afraid Professor Lupin will not be joining you all today,” Dumbledore said, looking around the class. “Fear not: for today, I shall be your instructor.” Dumbledore turned to pick up a piece of parchment from off the desk as the students began talking in hushed voices, wondering what had happened to Professor Lupin.

Ron leaned towards Hermione and whispered, “Where do you suppose Professor Lupin went?” He kept his eyes on Professor Dumbledore, watching as the old professor picked up a sheet of parchment and began calling names out and looking to see that everyone was there, sans Harry and Draco, of course.

“Ah! Is that a new hairstyle, Miss Parkinson?” Hermione heard the Headmaster ask, which was followed by a blush from Pansy and snickers from the boys in their class.

As Professor Dumbledore went about the room complimenting the students or asking how their families were, Hermione whispered back, “I’m not sure, but with Harry and Malfoy gone, he might have been sent out to look for them.”

“You reckon Dumbledore knows where he is?”

“He doesn’t seem upset about Professor Lupin being gone, so he may have been the one to send him out,” Hermione replied. She suddenly had to try very hard not to giggle when Dumbledore began to lecture: he had begun to wave his wand around in an attempt to show one of the Slytherins a complex move to block unwanted spells. Composing herself, she turned back to Ron. “I just hope Professor Lupin doesn’t run into any Death Eaters wherever he’s at right now.”

“Hermione, he’s a werewolf; I’m pretty sure he’ll be able to handle it if that were to happen. I mean, he’s been through enough in his life,” Ron replied.

Hermione looked up, making sure the Headmaster wasn’t going to say anything about her and Ron talking in class. “I know, and that’s what worries me. If You-Know-Who really is at full strength now, wouldn’t he try and find a way to get the werewolves on his side?” she asked.

Ron moved closer to his girlfriend and took hold of her hand, trying to comfort her in a way that wouldn’t draw too much attention to themselves. Just about the whole school knew they were together, but they tried to avoid pushing it into people’s faces. “I don’t know,” he pensively replied, “but I’m pretty sure Professor Lupin won’t go down without a fight.”

Hermione smiled in assurance, reassured, for now, and gently squeezed Ron’s hand in thanks. They spent the rest of the hour in class, working on their assignments, and being amused by their Headmaster’s antics.

@>*~

It was midnight and Snape lay in bed, trying to get some sleep. It was almost impossible these last few days as thoughts of the two boys kept intruding in his mind. He would never admit it to anyone, but he was worried for them. Oh, he still hated Potter with every fiber of his being for not only being James’ son, but also for the attention he received and the things he was allowed to get away with. It was enough to make anyone sick of hearing how ‘special’ someone was constantly.

He lay motionless as he heard his door squeak open slowly. His grip on his wand tightened: he’d taken to sleeping with his wand since arriving at Durmstrang, and barely opened an eye to see who had thought to disturb him so late at night. He almost threw a hex anyway when he saw who the person was. Draco and Harry had finally found their Potions master’s room after searching a few hours once the majority of the dark school had turned in for the night.

“Finally,” Draco mumbled upon seeing Snape in his bed. “We were about to give up and head back to the supply cupboard,” he said to Snape.

Snape sat up and glared at the two boys. Although he should have expected them to want to find him and ask, ‘what now?’ Even though they were both of age now, in the wizarding world, they both seemed to continue to need or seek guidance from an authority/parental figure. Anyone else would have been touched. But Severus Snape was not ‘anyone else’.

Snape moved around on the bed so his legs were over the side. “You two need to leave the castle, but not at this moment,” Snape said to the two boys.

“Why not right now?” Draco asked, moving further towards Snape’s bed.

“Because,” Snape sighed in annoyance, “there are sentries about: Death Eaters who are still scouring the castle looking for the both of you.”

“Great,” Draco mumbled, running a hand over his face. Harry looked like he was going to be sick.

“You have to keep moving. Stay hidden within the student population,” Snape said to Draco, almost as if Harry weren’t there with them.

Draco frowned, wondering why Snape was telling him all this. He knew Harry was acting a bit odd lately, and he heard what Snape had said earlier about Harry basically not being all there in the head due to the pregnancy, but he knew for a fact Harry wasn’t stupid. He thought it could be that Snape assumed Draco was ‘in charge’, which was true in a way, since he had known how to get to Durmstrang and such. He was brought out of his internal musings as Snape began to speak once more.

“Mister Malfoy, make sure to keep Harry as safe as possible. The child has most certainly weakened him a bit since male pregnancies can only carry on due to the wizard’s inborn magic. Hence, why the curse was able to take hold,” Snape informed him, glancing at Harry, who looked a bit green in the face. “Professor Lupin should be on his way here. I’ve told him to hurry and come.”

Harry's eyes lit up, feeling light and pleased for the first time in the last few days at this news. Draco nodded at his teacher. He really hoped they would be able to get back to school safely. As much as he disliked Dumbledore, Hogwarts was his home away from home, and he wanted to be back there, in his own dorm room, and fretting about their NEWTs.

“Now, off with you two; go, and try not to bring too much attention to yourselves,” Snape said, watching Draco grab Harry’s arm and lead him out of the room. Snape turned and made his way back towards his bed once the two boys had left. He paused in his step as he heard a strange scuffling sound. He looked around the room, but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. He was going to simply dismiss it as being tired, when he heard the noise again. His gaze moved down to the floor and spotted a rat sitting near the door. Without even thinking, he lunged at the rat, growling in frustration as the rat ran out the still semi-open door. Snape quickly got to his feet, running out into the corridor, but it was too late. Peter had already disappeared out of view. Snape refrained from cursing loudly as he walked a few feet down the corridor, still looking for Pettigrew, even though he knew it was pointless.

The bastard had been spying on him all this time, and right now he was probably telling the Dark Lord everything he’d just overheard. Severus knew he was running out of time and the Dark Lord would soon find out about Harry’s unborn child. Exactly how long had Pettigrew been spying on him? The entire time, or after the Dark Lord had gone traipsing through his mind? Snape’s anger overtook him a moment and he kicked a nearby chair into the wall hard enough to break the chair in pieces. He sighed to himself and turned to head back to his room when he heard someone speak.

“Something wrong, Severus?”

Snape turned around to see Lucius Malfoy smirking at him. Snape refrained from rolling his eyes as he said, “It’s none of your concern. What do you want?”

Lucius moved closer to Severus, invading his personal space. “Can’t an old friend drop in for a visit?” Lucius idly asked as he ran a hand, almost lovingly, down Snape’s arm. “We’re all on the same side here, aren’t we, Severus?” Lucius whispered to Snape, sticking out his tongue to run along the shell of his ear.

Snape closed his eyes a moment at the caressing touch, shivering as the other man assaulted not only his ear, but his senses, before pushing Lucius away from himself and backing up. “We were never that type of friend, Lucius,” Snape said, frowning.

Lucius sighed and shrugged. “Be careful, Severus,” he began. “You’ve had to make the choice of which side you’re on before.” Snape had crossed his arms and just looked at the blond man. “Are you sure you’re going to make the right one this time around?”

Snape uncrossed his arms and stalked off down the corridor back to his room, trying to strenuously ignore the blond. Before he stepped into his room, he heard Lucius call down the hall. “Do remember to feed your pets, as well. It wouldn’t do to have them on the back doorstep, nor to bring them inside.”

Snape continued into his room, wondering what the hell Lucius had been on about. He didn’t have any pets and even if he did, he definitely wouldn’t have brought them to Durmstrang. He thought on it a bit more, trying to work out the clue or warning Lucius had given him. It took him a few moments, but the only thing he could come up with was that Lucius somehow knew that Lupin was in Russia.

He wasn’t very worried about Lupin since he knew the man could take care of himself. Unless he did something stupid, like making his way to the castle itself, trying to see Snape, or some such nonsense. He didn’t really like Lupin all that much, especially not enough for Lucius to think Snape considered Lupin a pet. Of course, he’d come to put some past differences aside. He still hated Sirius, even though the man was dead now, and never forgave their little group for trying to get him killed by Lupin in his wolf form, but since Lupin had been asked back to teach by Dumbledore, Snape had to admit that he was putting in an effort to bury the hatchet.

Severus knew he liked men, along with women. He’d dated a fair few of the Slytherin girls in his youth. He was never very popular, or even what one would consider being handsome, but he knew he wasn’t outright ugly, either, no matter what he overheard from his students.

He hadn’t been on any type of date in nearly eighteen years, but that was mainly due to how busy his job was, and being a spy for the Order. It was a tad hard to woo someone with the Dark Lord and murderous, elitist colleagues looming over the relationship’s horizon. He shook his head and sighed loudly. Hell, it’d been nearly as long since he’d been intimate with anyone; he was just glad he had both his hands.

Snape moved to lie down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Maybe Lucius hadn’t said things outright because of the Dark Lord watching him more closely; or else he wasn’t watching the blond’s mind at all. It wouldn’t be above Lucius to keep something from the Dark Lord, and Snape knew many things that Lucius kept from the Dark Lord. The thing Snape wasn’t sure about was what Lucius was trying to tell him. Was Lucius trying to give him a hint, which he could use for the well-being of Lupin? Perhaps to tell Lupin false information to prove he was on the ‘right’ side, according to Lucius?

Snape brought his hands to his face, rubbing at his temples, a headache forming from too much conjecturing. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. His mind was telling him one thing and his conscience, another. The only thing he knew for sure was in the end, he couldn’t stay in the middle, watching from the sidelines. In the end, he was going to have to choose a side and between the two of them: the light and the dark; he knew which one was going to win in the end, and he planned to follow it.

@>*~

Draco and Harry had once more spent the night in a supply cupboard. After speaking with Snape the night before, they knew that the Death Eaters wouldn’t stop looking for them. Draco was just glad they were in a part of the castle that not many people went to unless they were in a sudden mood to clean. Draco had felt the urge to shag Harry a few times since they’d entered the castle, which he knew wasn’t likely to happen due to the chances of someone walking in on them, mainly the Death Eaters. He honestly had no idea why he wanted to shag Harry’s brains out all the time. Well, he had some clue, subconsciously, but consciously, he didn’t know why. He just knew that the closer they got to being caught by the Dark Lord, the more Draco wanted Harry.

When they had awoken that morning, Draco knew they’d have to brave possible detection once more to get food. It had already been a few days since they’d last eaten, and although Draco was sure he could go a few more days without eating, he didn’t think Harry could. Especially not now, since he was pregnant, and needed to eat to keep both himself and their baby healthy.

Sneaking out of the supply cupboard and merging into the flow of students, all heading to the hall for breakfast hadn’t been difficult at all. It had felt like they were being allowed to venture out to eat, to Draco, but they hadn’t seen any Death Eaters about, so it was probably just his imagination.

They walked into the hall and found themselves in front of one of the long tables. The tables were almost set up exactly like the ones at Hogwarts, but it seemed that here in Durmstrang, it didn’t matter where one sat. They sat down on the bench to the table in front of them, sitting beside each other; after a few moments, food appeared on the table in the same style as it did at Hogwarts, and Draco picked his cup up to take a sip as he heard Harry sigh happily at the sight of food. They enjoyed their food, especially since both boys were hungry. Harry was drinking pumpkin juice out of his cup when Draco noticed a boy, seated a table away, staring at Harry.

Draco turned to glance at Harry, wondering if the brunet was trying to attract the attention of the boy across from them, but Harry’s sole focus was on his breakfast. Draco turned his attention back to the boy, glaring at him. The boy didn’t seem to notice Draco’s glare, continuing to stare and even smirking at Harry. Draco finally had enough of the boy just staring, that he stood up from the bench. “What are you looking at?” Draco demanded loudly, startling Harry, who frowned at the blond. “You want something? Why don’t you come over here and tell me what you’re looking at!”

Harry was staring wide-eyed at his lover. He didn’t know what had made Draco so angry to not only yell across their table at someone, but to bring unwanted attention to them: they were supposed to lay low. Keeping his head down, more out of embarrassment than worried someone would see his face, Harry grabbed the back of Draco’s robes and pulled him forcibly back down to his seat. Once Draco sat down, glaring heatedly at the boy across the tables still, Harry leaned close to the blond and whispered, “What the hell are you playing at? Why were you yelling at that boy?”

“That arsehole was staring at you,” Draco growled out, clutching the butter knife in his right hand with white-knuckled force.

“So what?” Harry began. “Do you think I’m not used to people staring at me as I walk down the halls, or whispering about me behind my back?” Harry said quietly, so as not to attract more attention, or give away who they were.

Draco didn’t say anything to Harry in response. He wasn’t sure exactly why the strange boy, who’d been staring at Harry, had irked him so much. If they’d been at Hogwarts, it probably wouldn’t have bothered him so much, but seeing as how anyone at this dark school could be under orders to kill them, bring them in, or follow them, had Draco on edge. He’d never really cared all that much for the well-being of others, mostly looking out for himself, but it was almost as if his protective instincts had been brought to the forefront, wanting to protect Harry and their baby. He wasn’t sure why, since he knew Harry was quite capable of handling his own against the Dark Lord. Draco sighed to himself and shook his head.

Harry took another drink of pumpkin juice from his cup. Sometimes he had this strong urge to smack Draco about the head for some of the things he’d done since they’d begun this trip. He understood that Draco would get a bit overprotective of Harry due to him being pregnant, but he wasn’t made of glass. And he especially hadn’t become some poor little weak girl who needed a big, strong man to protect her. Did Draco forget that Harry had not only defeated Voldemort more than once, but that he and his friends had taken on wizards, not only twice their age, but more experienced, at the Department of Mysteries? He knew Professor Snape had said that he was weakened now, but that didn’t mean he was helpless.

Harry went to reach for his cup again when he suddenly felt very nauseous. He brought his hand back to his side, ready to cover his mouth and run to the nearest loo in case he was going to be sick, but it never came. He sat there, staring blankly at his half-eaten meal, wondering what the hell was happening. He frowned and placed a hand on his belly, barely stifling his gasp of shock as he felt his belly suddenly bulge out a bit. Harry looked down, eyes widening at his stomach.

Draco was still glaring at the boy across the table from them, watching him until the boy got up suddenly from his seat and walked out of the hall. The blond hadn’t noticed Harry touching his belly, but looked over to see him better when he had shifted in his seat. Draco didn’t like the white color that swept across Harry’s face. “All right, there?” Draco asked in concern. He frowned at Harry’s shake of his head in reply. His grey eyes got wide and he whipped his head to stare at Harry’s cup before grabbing it and taking a tentative sniff. His eyes squinted in rage as he caught a very faint smell of Helsbane. Draco wasn’t surprised Harry hadn’t noticed it since one had to actively sniff the liquid it was in to smell it. Draco’s hands clenched in fury: he knew almost for sure that Harry had been poisoned, most likely by the boy who’d been staring.

If he were to guess, this was supposed to be a quick-acting form of the poison, which was intended to kill the drinker within minutes. Draco was on the verge of losing his cool to freak out until he realized that Harry had been drinking from the cup for at least the past ten minutes or so and hadn’t keeled over dead yet. Draco frowned in thought, wondering idly if he had been mistaken in his guess at the type of poison used. He glanced once more over at Harry, but apart from an odd look on his face, seemed perfectly fine.

Harry didn’t know what was happening exactly or why, but he was pretty sure his baby had gone through a growth spurt of some type. Before he had noticed the sudden bulge, his stomach had been pretty flat still, which he knew meant he hadn’t been very far along. If he had to guess at when he had conceived, it might have been their first or second time Draco had taken him when they’d first begun their strange relationship. After the first couple of days of their trip to Durmstrang, he’d noticed a slight little bump sticking out right above his pubic bone, which hadn’t been there when they’d still been in school. So he had assumed it was the baby growing inside of him. He knew most women didn’t show until around their fourth or fifth month of pregnancy, but they normally had more fat naturally; he’d grown up malnourished and he was male. Now, though, his belly stuck out more and his trousers had become uncomfortably tight.

He didn’t think it’d be wise to tell Draco what he felt happen, since he could sense Draco was on the verge of freaking out already over something. Plus, he was all worked up about some boy staring at him. Harry sighed to himself; he didn’t know what happened, but he had a strong suspicion it wasn’t anything good.

@>*~

Voldemort closed his eyes as he relaxed in his chair, mind opened and focused on his Death Eaters. If his followers were close by, he was able to locate them, and most times able to know what they were planning. It wouldn’t do to have one of his Death Eaters plotting his untimely demise. Of course, most of them were too cowardly to try, so he wasn’t too worried.

He made sure none of his Death Eaters had come in contact with the Potter boy or his companion since entering Durmstrang. He’d sent Rodolphus, who had been disguised as a Durmstrang student, using Polyjuice Potion, out to poison the boy. He knew the poison’s true effects wouldn’t work on him since Lily Potter’s protection would forever be in effect until the day the boy died, but it would weaken the boy even further than he had been.

He’d sent Macnair and Goyle to question the students and find out where the two boys were so when the time came, he could finally be rid of Potter once and for all, and be able to rid the world of Muggles and all their supporters. Then, he would have his fun with the blood traitors. He’d sent Greyback out to ‘entice’ people into his ranks; he quite enjoyed the way he went about it. A little bloodshed and missing limbs never hurt anyone, after all. He frowned thoughtfully as Lucius Malfoy’s presence came to the forefront of his mind suddenly. Voldemort slowly opened his eyes to see Lucius walk confidently into his rooms.

“My Lord,” Lucius inquired, bowing his head respectively to Voldemort before continuing. “Any progress?”

Voldemort crossed his legs so his right ankle was over his left leg and replied, “The poison has taken some effect. I’ve been slowly monitoring his mind in his weakened state.”

“What brought this weakness on, my Lord?” Lucius asked. He knew the Dark Lord kept going on about Potter being weakened, but he had never specified.

Voldemort eyed the blond man in front of him. “It is not important to the plan for you to know, Lucius,” Voldemort warningly replied. Lucius remained quiet at this, knowing not to push the Dark Lord, questioning his motives. “Severus, however, is being quite … elusive, both physically and mentally. I haven’t sent anyone to find him physically, but he’s being quite closed with his mind.”

“Do you believe Snape will betray you, my Lord?” Lucius asked warily; he wasn’t close, personal friends with Snape, but he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see any harm come to him because of Snape’s idiocy.

“I know he will, Lucius; it’s just a matter of time,” the Dark Lord replied. “So far, everything is going according to my plans. I am confident that Potter will die tonight.”

“And my son, my Lord? Will you spare his life?”

“That, Lucius, will be determined when the choice arises.” Lucius was none too satisfied with that response. He truly hoped Draco would do him proud and not incur the wrath of their Lord. Lucius was just glad the Dark Lord had become preoccupied with Potter’s arrival and Snape’s possible betrayal, and didn’t seem to think Lucius was a threat to him. Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when he noticed the Dark Lord’s expression go blank and a far away look passed over his face. “Lucius, go out and bring back Wormtail. He has some information for me,” Voldemort ordered, closing his eyes once more, refocusing on Harry’s mind.

Lucius bowed his head. “As you wish, my Lord,” he answered, turning and walking out of the room. He pursed his lips in thought as he did Voldemort’s bidding. He almost wished he could tell the Dark Lord what he thought of this plan of his. If it’d been up to him, he’d have ordered his followers to kill the boy, instead of wasting time with plots and plans, fleeing with his tail between his legs because some baby had unintentionally defeated him once. He only had to wait until his Lord was defeated, then he’d show them how it was done. He only hoped his son would make the right decision: he was too old to try and produce a new heir if Draco chose wrong.

@>*~

It was around noon when Ron finally made it out of bed. He’d had to stay up the night before until well into the morning, finishing up a Herbology report Professor Sprout had assigned. Usually, he’d have waited until the last minute to finish his homework so he’d have more time for trivial things, like playing chess or a long round of Exploding Snap; but since making Hermione his girlfriend, he’d wanted to put a bit more effort into his school work. He was determined to impress her.

Not that he needed to bother, since she knew all about his usual study habits. She’d have to have a little chat with him one of these days. Hermione didn’t want him wearing himself out, no matter how much she put up a fuss about his and Harry’s grades being affected. She would just look over their homework and correct it for them anyway, so what was the point?

Ron yawned and ran a hand through his hair. He went to his trunk, grabbing his toiletry bag so he could freshen up. A little while later, he emerged from the boys’ bathroom and got dressed. He and Hermione had another date, and since it was a Hogsmeade weekend, they figured they’d spend it together, strolling through town.

Earlier in the week, he hadn’t really wanted to go, since Harry wasn’t going to be there with them. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend time with his girlfriend, but he missed hanging out and just talking about boy stuff with Harry. He knew now that he was seriously in love with Hermione, but he loved Harry as well. His love for Harry wasn’t sexual, but more in a brotherly sense. Harry had been gone now for about a fortnight and Ron felt very lonely without his other best friend.

Hermione was down in the common room waiting for Ron. She wasn’t in any hurry to go to the village, so she was reading her Arithmancy book. She looked up when she heard a sound coming from the stairs and smiled brightly at Ron as he made his way to her. “Ready?” Hermione asked, getting up from the sofa, closing her book, and placing it on the table nearby. Ron nodded and smiled at her as he took hold of her hand and they walked out of the common room.

They followed the flow of the other students all making their way to the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade. After the short ride to the village, Ron and Hermione walked down the footpath, occasionally looking through shop windows. They wore coats as it was lightly snowing, making people look like they had a case of bad dandruff. The couple stopped in front of Honeydukes, entering the store and purchasing a few chocolate frogs, more Toothflossing Stringmints since Hermione’s parents couldn’t get enough of them, and a few other odds and ends that caught their fancy.

They wandered further and stopped at another store to look around before finally making their way into the Three Broomsticks. Madam Rosmerta walked up to their table to take their order, and Ron blushed and stumbled around his answer. Hermione just smiled and shook her head at him. It seemed he still had a crush on the older woman, even though he was with Hermione; of course, she wasn’t as irritated with him about that now as she had been in the past, since she knew she had nothing to worry or be jealous about.

The pair drank their butterbeers slowly, talking about nonsense subjects, but mainly just enjoying each other’s company. They looked up as Neville, and surprisingly, Blaise, stopped at their table.

“Hello, Ron, Hermione. Mind if we sit with you two?” Neville asked, pulling out a chair after the two shook their heads.

“How are you, Neville?” Hermione asked, smiling at the other boy as he sat down.

“I’m doing well. Blaise and I decided to be a little more open with our relationship after the talk we had the other day,” Neville said, leaning forward on the table in front of him.

“Won’t the other Slytherins be upset with you, Zabini?” Ron asked the other boy. He knew there might be a few in Gryffindor who wouldn’t be too happy - one of their own was fraternizing with the ‘enemy’- but he had a strong feeling that they wouldn’t treat Neville badly, because he helped others with their Herbology work and was just a very nice boy in general.

Blaise rolled his eyes at Ron’s question. “They won’t, and even if they did, I really don’t care,” he replied, crossing his arms in defiance of anyone who might say anything to the contrary. Ron stayed quiet at this; he had to admit that he really had underestimated the Slytherin boy. Zabini must care an awful lot about Neville if he was willing to become a potential target for the sake of their relationship.

The two couples spent the remainder of their time in Hogsmeade inside of the Three Broomsticks, chatting. Ron and Blaise had gotten into a heated discussion on Quidditch at one point, leaving Neville and Hermione sharing an amused look between themselves.

A few hours later, Blaise and Neville said their goodbyes and headed upstairs to spend the rest of their time in a room Neville had reserved earlier. Hermione blushed over what the boys were likely up to up there; Ron didn’t seem to notice this, too busy with his drink. Thank goodness.

On the way back to the castle they held hands, opting to walk back instead of taking a carriage. They didn’t care if people saw them occasionally share a kiss or other minor displays of affection, since just about everyone knew that they were a couple by now.

No one had asked them if they’d shagged yet, but then it wasn’t any of their damn business, Ron thought. Of course, Hermione had overheard one or two of their classmates speculate, but it wasn’t said in malice, so she wasn’t really upset over it.

Once they arrived back at school, they continued to make their way towards Gryffindor tower, but were delayed when the staircases decided to move on them. Not in any real hurry to get back to the common room, they wandered down the deserted corridor they found themselves in, before Ron pulled Hermione into a little nook, pushing her lightly until her back was against the wall.

Hermione raised an amused eyebrow at Ron before he leaned in to kiss her. She moaned into his mouth as she opened her own to accept his tongue. She was torn between being a good, sensible Head Girl and enjoying being with her boyfriend. Ron won out eventually when she felt his hand slip under her shirt to caress her breast through her bra. Hell with it, she thought to herself as she moved a hand down to cup Ron’s groin.

Ron moaned at the contact and moved his lips down to suck at Hermione’s neck. Hermione opened her eyes briefly, not realizing she had closed them, when she froze. Ron hadn’t noticed his girlfriend’s body go still, too busy enjoying himself. “Ron,” Hermione whispered, and received a ‘hmm?’ from Ron in response. “Ron, stop!”

“Why?” he replied at last, as he reluctantly pulled back long enough to stare at Hermione. Was she trying to tease him or something? Get him worked up, and then giggle at him as she walked away, wanting to play?

“Mrs. Norris is behind you, staring at us,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off of the caretaker’s cat.

“Oh, crap!” Ron quickly pulled away from Hermione. Grabbing her by the hand, he led her further down the corridor.

They knew that Filch was never far from his cat and they really didn’t want to explain why a Prefect and the Head Girl had been snogging in the halls. Ron stopped in front of the first door he came to and pushed it open, dragging Hermione along behind him. They kept still and quiet, listening for any signs of Filch. After a moment, when no one followed them inside, they each let out a sigh of relief.

“I think it’s all right, I don’t hear anyone out there,” Hermione whispered, ear pressed to the door.

Ron pulled Hermione back towards him, grinding his pelvis into her arse. “Good,” he said. Hermione gasped as she felt the bulge against her, turning around in Ron’s arms to kiss him heatedly on the lips. Ron moved his hands from Hermione’s back, bringing them to the hem of her shirt and jumper, pulling them up over her head, leaving her in only her bra. Hermione moved her hands to the fly of Ron’s trousers, working the zipper down. She moved her hand past the waistband of his pants, working at the leaking erection she found there, when a very loud and very pointed ‘AHEM!’ made them stop.

As Hermione bent over to hastily pick her shirt and jumper from off the floor, Ron moved to stand behind her as he tucked himself away and zipped his trousers up. Nothing could kill his erection faster than Myrtle could, except maybe thinking of his parents shagging. At that thought, Ron squirmed in disgust, almost sticking his tongue out at the thought and barely held himself back from making little gagging noises. Hermione squinted her eyes at no one in particular as she felt Ron wiggle behind her, before looking up at the ghost. “Um … hello, Myrtle,” Hermione said, blushing hotly.

“As usual, everyone forgets I exist,” Myrtle said, glaring at the couple. Hermione looked sheepish and was about to apologize, when Myrtle suddenly burst into tears.

“Er,” Ron said eloquently, exchanging a helpless look with Hermione.

“You know,” Myrtle began, sniffling as big, fat silver tears slid down her cheeks, “I died a virgin.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ron muttered just loud enough for Hermione to hear.

Hermione elbowed him, giving him a look before turning back to the sobbing ghost. “I, uh, don’t know what to say.” Myrtle just wailed louder at this before diving into to her toilet.

Hermione and Ron moved quickly to the door and left the bathroom, hurrying through the school to their common room. Unfortunately, they weren’t likely to shag today. Once inside, they made their way to a couch that was situated across from the fireplace. It was around nine at night, so there were still a few of their fellow classmates hanging about the common room: mostly first and second years who couldn’t go into Hogsmeade yet.

Hermione cuddled closer to Ron, who wrapped his arm around her to draw her against his body. Hermione pulled her feet up onto the couch, getting herself comfortable. Ron leaned down and placed a soft kiss onto her lips, making Hermione smile up at him. They sat there, together, thinking of Harry. They missed talking with him, doing homework together; they just overall missed having him in their lives.

It just wasn’t the same without their best mate. Both Hermione and Ron knew that their new relationship might occasionally put a dampener on a few things they would normally do together, which was mainly why they held hands all the time and showed their affection for each other so much. When Harry returned to them, they knew they’d have to tone it down. Not because he’d be jealous or upset, but mainly because they were friends. Ron liked spending time with just Harry, without Hermione, and Hermione felt the same. If they always spent their time snogging or shagging, they may as well have acted like Harry didn’t exist. It was hard enough to picture Malfoy having to share Harry’s time as well.

Although, they weren’t sure what Malfoy and Harry’s relationship involved. It sounded stingy, like they wanted to monopolize all of Harry’s time, but they just wanted their friend back, safe and sound. The pair drifted off to sleep in front of the fire, thoughts still centered around their best friend.

@>*~

Hermione was the first one to wake up the next day, surprised their housemates let them sleep all night on the couch. She got up, yawning and stretching as she wiped the sleep from her eyes. She smiled a silly smile at seeing Ron, mouth open, snoring softly as a bit of drool escaped his open mouth. Giving one more full body stretch, she leaned over and shook Ron’s shoulder to wake him. She let out a startled squeak when she felt Ron’s arms close around her, pulling her down to land on top of him. “How long were you awake?” she asked, glaring playfully down at him.

“Just a few minutes,” he replied, grinning up at her. “Today’s Sunday, and another day we can spend in Hogsmeade. Want to get a room for the day?” he asked, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione scoffed playfully at Ron. “Why, Mr. Weasley: are you trying to take advantage of me?”

“I sure am,” he said, still grinning.

“Mmm, sounds good, but we need to shower and change first,” Hermione said, reluctantly getting up from the warmth of Ron’s body. Ron sighed, but acquiesced.

A little while later, the two friends made their way out of their dorms and into the common room. They were about to head to the portrait entrance when they stopped at the sight of Professor McGonagall coming through the doorway. “Ah, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, I’m glad I caught you both,” Professor McGonagall said as she came to stand in front of the two Gryffindors.

“Is everything okay, Professor?” Hermione asked, little more than politely concerned.

“I need the two of you to come with me now, please,” McGonagall only said, turning back to the portrait and walking out. Ron and Hermione looked at each other worriedly before following their professor.

They made their way through the school in silence, both students fretting over what may have transpired to make their teacher want to speak to them. They had a ton of things on their minds but the number one thought was about Harry. Was he all right? Could they find him and bring him back? Was he alive?

They were brought out of their thoughts when they stopped in front of the stone gargoyle outside of Dumbledore’s office. “Sherbet Lemon,” Professor McGonagall said. The three of them watched the statue disappear into the staircase above. As soon as they made it to the Headmaster’s door, Professor McGonagall knocked and they entered at the “Please, come in,” from behind the door.

Ron and Hermione stopped in their tracks at the sight in front of them. Not only was Professor Dumbledore there in his parlor, but also members of the Order. “Mum, Dad, what are you doing here?” Ron asked as he watched them stand up.

“Ron! Hermione!” Molly Weasley said, giving them each a warm hug, happy to see the both of them.

“Professor? What’s happened?” Hermione asked once Mrs. Weasley let her go. Without thinking, she and Ron each took a seat, automatically taking hold of each other’s hand.

They both wondered why they were here, inside the Headmaster’s office with members of the Order. They didn’t know if it was because they were Harry’s best friends or if the others thought they were hiding important information from everyone. Neither Hermione nor Ron saw the look Mrs. Weasley gave her husband at seeing the two teens’ hands clasped together. Mr. Weasley just shrugged and smiled at his wife.

Hermione glanced around the Headmaster’s office, taking note of everyone there. All the Weasleys, except Percy, were present. She even saw Tonks and Shacklebolt talking amongst themselves in a corner off to the side.

After everyone got settled, Dumbledore cleared his throat quietly to get everyone’s attention; almost everyone there had been talking to one another quietly, wondering why they had been summoned to Hogwarts in the first place. “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Dumbledore began, hands behind his back as he addressed the group in his office. “I have called you all here to discuss the situation with Harry.”

“Harry?” Molly stepped forward, worry clearly visible on her face. “What about Harry? Ron?” she said, turning her attention from Dumbledore to her son.

Ron shrank back a bit at the sudden attention he received from everyone in the room. “Uh…” he began, not really sure how to tell his mother about Harry and his relationship with Malfoy of all people.

Molly opened her mouth, ready to demand Ron tell her, when Hermione spoke up. “Harry left school to look for Professor Snape at Durmstrang.” The room broke out in heated whispers as they wondered about this latest news. The overall question being what was Harry’s reasoning to leave the safety of school to look for a teacher they all knew he didn’t like.

Molly moved closer to Hermione as she asked, “Durmstrang? Left the school to look for Snape? Why in Merlin’s name did he do this?”

“We’re not sure, Mum,” Ron replied, shifting in his seat at her look. “He left with Draco Malfoy though.”

“Draco Malfoy?” Fred asked, looking at his younger brother.

“That pompous git?” George added, shaking his head.

Molly frowned, looking over to Dumbledore. “I don’t understand. What is Harry doing with the Malfoy boy? I thought they didn’t get on very well,” she said, trying to get to the bottom of all that was happening.

“They’re seeing each other,” Hermione began, looking up at Mrs. Weasley, “but I don’t believe they wanted anyone to know. Harry always seemed … odd about the whole thing. He didn’t seem to be fawning over their relationship, but rather, reserved and depressed about it,” she finished.

She had to note privately, that she had seen a few bruises around Harry’s wrists that one day after lunch. She hadn’t paid it any mind at the time since Harry hadn’t seemed to notice them, or if he had, he hadn’t been very upset by it.

Ron wasn’t happy to hear what Hermione had seen and told her so. “See, Hermione, I told you he was no good for Harry, but you wouldn’t listen. Malfoy cares only about himself and no one else.”

No one said anything to this outburst, most of them agreeing. The adults knew how his father was, so it wasn’t much of a surprise to hear the younger Malfoy would be just like him.

“I saw the look in Harry’s eyes, though,” Hermione said, drawing attention back onto herself. “He definitely felt something when he was with Malfoy. Besides, I really don’t believe he would be doing something he didn’t want to do.”

“This is true,” Dumbledore spoke up, breaking the momentary silence, which came about after Hermione’s declaration. “I have never known Harry to do anything he did not want to do. If Lucius’ son had forced Harry, he would have retaliated in some form. Whether by telling a teacher or letting Mr. Weasley or Ms. Granger here, know.” There were murmurings of agreement going around the room by the Order members at this.

Molly sniffled suddenly and pulled out a handkerchief, dabbing at her eyes with it. What Hermione had said earlier about Harry had moved her. She sighed heavily. “I suppose I’ll have to go to the store and pick up some more yarn for Christmas. It seems Draco may become a part of the family,” she said to herself, ignoring the twins when they groaned. Of course, she didn’t know for sure if it was the idea of Draco becoming almost like family, or the thought of yet another jumper for Christmas.

Hermione jumped in her chair suddenly as the door to Dumbledore’s office opened. Were there no wards protecting the door? She squeezed Ron’s hand in worry, wanting to turn and yell at their Headmaster for not locking the door. Hermione let out a sigh in relief and willed her heart to stop pounding so hard from the fright, when she saw who had walked in.

Lupin looked tired as he entered the room, like he hadn’t slept in days, and made his way across to Dumbledore’s desk. “Headmaster,” he began, sighing softly. “I just came back from Lena where I spotted a large number of Death Eaters in the area. Lord Voldemort has become very active recently with Harry so close to him.

“I haven’t heard anything new from Snape since he asked me to scout out the town. I will, of course, go back to Lena to await any further information, and hopefully, come in contact with the boys,” he said tiredly.

Dumbledore nodded his head at Remus. “Is this all you’ve been able to find out?”

“Yes, Headmaster,” Remus replied. “Most of what I’ve been able to gather from overhearing Voldemort’s supporters is some big plan he has in the works, but nothing definite. I don’t believe Voldemort has told anyone what his plans entail.”

“Thank you, Remus. Please rest before heading back to Lena. You’re looking dreadful.” Remus nodded his head to Dumbledore before turning and leaving as quickly as he arrived.

A few tense minutes went by after Lupin left before Dumbledore told the others to head out and wait for any new information. There had been a few protests at this suggestion, but the Headmaster told them there was nothing anyone could do about the situation at the moment. He had contacted a team of Aurors, most of who were vacationing in other countries, to keep an eye out for Harry and Draco. He assured everyone that he had full confidence the two boys would make it safely back to Hogwarts.

@>*~

They were wandering the corridors of the castle, looking for Snape again since he hadn’t been in his room. Harry had wanted to speak to Snape once more, about what had happened, even though Draco had thought it was unwise to venture out into the corridors. When Harry had been poisoned four days ago, Draco hadn’t really noticed Harry’s stomach since it hadn’t stuck out very much, plus neither boy had had an opportunity to get naked since most of the time they slept in the storage cupboard Snape had previously sent them to. And besides, with the way their luck had been going recently, they would almost certainly get caught.

Harry protested loudly when Draco voiced his concerns about traipsing after Snape and Draco was still nursing a bruised arm from where a flying mop had hit him. Draco could do nothing but stare at his lover in utter disbelief. He’d heard a few rumors about Harry, mostly about how he’d lost his temper quite a bit during fifth year. But Draco hadn’t been very surprised since the year before Harry had gone through so much.

When he and Harry had first begun their strange relationship, Draco had never seen Harry throw things or lose control of his magic enough to affect the small space they’d been hiding in. Draco assumed it had to do with the pregnancy affecting him in some strange way. Afterwards, Draco agreed to go out and find Snape again. He knew Snape wouldn’t have anything new to say to them, but his willingness to go back out and look, seemed to calm Harry down.

The blond stopped and turned around at a soft moan from Harry. “All right there, Harry?” he asked, frowning at the green hue of his face.

“I’m okay, I think,” Harry quietly replied, placing a hand onto his expanding belly. “I think the baby had another growth spurt.”

“Another?” Draco asked; he knew the poison hadn’t worked like it was suppose to originally, but he hadn’t realized that their baby was growing so fast. Frowning at Harry’s nod at his question, Draco pulled Harry toward an empty corridor off to the side. Pushing aside Harry’s outer robes, Draco frowned at the bulge he saw there. Harry’s stomach now looked bigger and rounder than it had a few days ago. If Draco had to guess, he’d say Harry looked to be in his fourth or fifth month of pregnancy. “When did this first start?” Draco asked, placing a hand onto Harry’s belly. He startled a bit at the movement he felt under his hand.

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together in thought. “It started that day we were in this school’s Great Hall,” he said, quietly enjoying having the blond’s hand on his belly. Harry couldn’t quite get the soft smile that appeared on his face to leave at the feeling of his baby moving around inside of him. At least he assumed it was their baby, or else he had a very active stomach.

Without being too obvious about it, he quickly removed his hand, letting it rest back at his side. “Come on, Harry,” Draco said, grabbing hold of the boy’s sleeve. “Let’s go find Snape.”

Draco decided, since they were already heading down the empty corridor, to continue walking down it. Harry tagged along behind him, looking around at the walls and ceiling as they walked. It was dark in the corridor since there weren’t any visible windows on this side of the castle. It was still fairly early in the morning when they had first left the cupboard, so it was pretty dark outside.

He hadn’t realized that the poison Harry had unintentionally consumed would cause their child to grow so rapidly. When Harry had first told Draco he was pregnant, it almost didn’t seem like it was real. Yes, Harry had showed one or two obvious symptoms, but his stomach had remained relatively flat. Now, though, not only was Harry showing, but Draco had also felt their baby moving.

Draco wasn’t sure if he was ready for the baby to be born right now. He was just getting used to the idea of there actually being a baby inside of Harry; he wasn’t prepared for his impending fatherhood. He reckoned if the baby kept going through these strange growth spurts, it’d only be a matter of days instead of months until the baby arrived. Draco shook his head and mumbled obscenities to himself under his breath. God … he didn’t know what to do.

Draco was brought out of his musing abruptly when he heard Harry gasp loudly. Since it was nearly pitch black and neither boy had thought to light their wand tips up with a spell, they couldn’t see where they were headed very well. Before Draco had a chance to finally utter the spell, he felt a hand clamp down onto his shoulder, making him yelp out in fear. A moment later, Draco was blinking his eyes at the light that suddenly appeared.

“Remus!” Harry whispered, happy at seeing their professor. Remus didn’t say anything but turned around and walked down the hall, not stopping until he came to a closed door. Draco opened his mouth, only to close it again as he watched Harry follow blindly after Lupin.

Draco rubbed the back of his neck and sighed before following Harry. Once Draco caught up with the others, Lupin pushed the unlocked door open, gesturing for the two boys to go first.

Harry was happy that his professor was here with them. He’d missed Remus and his friends while he and Draco had been on their way to Durmstrang. Harry looked curiously around the room they’d been herded into. It seemed to have been a classroom at one time or another. The desks, which were broken, were covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. There were cobwebs around the room and various skeletons of dead experiments or creatures that had been left to die on their own when they were no longer needed.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at Lupin suspiciously. He wasn’t sure if their professor was here to help or if he suddenly decided to switch sides.

Remus sighed, absently scratching at his head. “Snape told me to come. The Dark Lord is searching high and low for you. I’m surprised I was even able to sneak inside myself without getting caught,” Remus replied, leaning against the only desk in the abandoned classroom that wasn’t broken. “Snape and I are trying to get you out of here as fast as we can without being spotted, caught … or worse.”

“Where’s Snape?” Harry asked, rubbing a hand over his belly. The baby had shifted and it had felt like a big knot had formed high on his stomach. _Must be the baby’s head_ , Harry thought, continuing to rub at the spot until the baby moved again and the knot disappeared.

“I’m not sure where Snape is at the moment. The Dark Lord may have summoned him to his side,” Remus replied, looking Harry’s way. He frowned thoughtfully at the bulge he saw making Harry’s stomach stick out. When Remus had last seen Harry, his stomach had still been very flat. From what he gathered from listening to Ron and Hermione, Harry hadn’t been with Malfoy very long.

Harry scrunched his eyebrows together in thought. “What about Dumbledore? What’s he doing about this? What about Ron and Hermione? Are they okay?” Harry asked, taking a step towards Lupin, only to be held back a bit by Draco’s hand on his arm. Draco had kept a hold of Harry the moment they’d entered the classroom, and he wasn’t about to let go. And he still wasn’t sure why that was.

Draco kept looking around the classroom, turning his head to look behind their backs, almost as if he thought a Death Eater or the Dark Lord himself, was going to jump up from the floor and yell “There you are!” He knew he was being paranoid, but he was still wary of their professor. He was a werewolf, and he had no idea which side he was truly on, especially since there was at least one other known werewolf working for the Dark Lord. Draco pursed his lips in thought for a moment: maybe that was why Lupin was able to get inside the castle at all. It wasn’t registering to Voldemort that there was a werewolf inside the castle since he had most likely recruited the werewolves as his followers. Draco wouldn’t put it past the Dark Lord to do something like that.

Lupin was interrupted from answering Harry’s questions when a door in the not-so-distant hallways creaked and slammed shut, startling the three of them. They decided mutually to part ways for the time being. Lupin promised them that somehow they’d all make it out, together. Lupin stayed behind, watching the two boys exit the classroom and make their way quickly down the hall. He didn’t want to mention to the two boys how hard it would most likely be to get back to Hogwarts where it was safer. He just hoped that Snape had a plan in the works that would ensure their survival and guarantee they wouldn’t come to any harm. Well, one could only hope for the best, anyway.

@>*~

It was close to lunch by the time Professor Sprout ended the lesson for the day. Ron, Hermione, and Neville followed the flow of seventh years all making their way to the Great Hall.

“It was muggier than usual in there, wasn’t it?” asked Ron, stepping out of the way of a third year Ravenclaw student. Ron turned his head to see where the student was going in such a hurry. He turned back when the Ravenclaw ducked into the loo.

"It wasn't too bad," Neville offered (said the top student in Herbology, save for Hermione), hefting his bag higher up on his shoulder. The three Gryffindors continued on their way to the Hall, but Neville threw them a crooked smile and waved. "I'll see you two later."

“Where are you going?” Ron asked, looking at Neville curiously.

Neville smiled shyly. “I’m going to see Blaise, since we aren’t able to sit next to each other in the Hall. Bye,” he hastily said, waving at his friends as he walked down the corridor. Ron and Hermione waved back, watching Neville until he got to a nervous Blaise, grabbed his hand, and led him around the corner.

As they resumed walking, Hermione found her own mind wandering around corners, thoughts traveling away from Blaise and Neville and Harry and Draco for a moment. She wasn’t trying to forget about her other friend, but with everything that had been going on in previous weeks, she hadn’t had any time to think about herself. Now that she was with Ron, as a couple, she needed to rethink her future plans out.

Not that it was a bad thing to include Ron in her life, but before they’d gotten together, she’d only thought about what she’d be doing alone. This was their last year of school, after all: after taking their NEWTs, they would be leaving, for the final time, never to return. Hermione knew she’d probably be staying in England and most likely getting a job at the Ministry, as what, she wasn’t sure of yet.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Ron had been thinking along the same lines. He wasn’t planning to leave England after school, but he hoped that Hermione would want to stay with him. He loved her very much, even if he hadn’t outright told her yet, but then again, neither had she. He knew she did, largely with how she was around him, and especially as she had been the one to begin their relationship, getting it past the friends only phase. They were both still laden down with thoughts when Hermione stopped in the doorway of the Great Hall, worrying her lip and turning to Ron as several fifth years passed them by.

“Ron, I’ve been thinking,” she suddenly said, pulling Ron out of his thoughts. He turned to her, prompting her to finish her thought with a curious look, wanting to know what she was thinking about. “We should…we should live together.”

His eyebrows flew into his hairline. Hermione quickly resumed, "Maybe...share a flat. You know," she made a vaguely feeble gesture, as she stared at a particularly fascinating discoloration in the flooring, "So we're not on our own," she finished. This was the last thing he was expecting Hermione to say. He wasn't against the suggestion, but how'd she know he was thinking that exact same thing?

He stared, mouth slightly open, eyes wide in shock, and audible clicks coming from his throat. “I’d like that, Hermione,” he said gently, one corner of his mouth rising in a crooked smile. A watery smile came to Hermione's face. She looked up at him, speechless for a few minutes as the emotion washed over her in euphoric waves.

She let out a relieved breath, feeling several pounds of worry vanish instantly. "I'd like that too, Ron," she finally replied, taking his hand into hers as they continued on into the Great Hall for lunch. Ron's ears turned red from her touch, even after so long.

They took their usual seats across from each other at Gryffindor table. It was always strange sitting at the table, the space open where Harry normally sat next to Ron. Sometimes one of their housemates would sit closer to the redhead, not realizing that spot was Harry’s, but Ron never really minded too much. It _was_ a free spot to sit in until Harry got back, safe and sound. He’d convinced himself it was only a matter of time before that spot was once again occupied by his best mate.

Hermione dished some roast beef sandwiches onto her plate, pulling out her usual gigantic tome to read while she ate. Ron smiled at Hermione, who wasn’t paying much attention at this point, too busy engrossed in the text of what she was reading.

Ron grabbed some sandwiches for his own plate, taking one and biting into it as his thoughts came bubbling to the surface again. He and Hermione, living together! It was a strange feeling, knowing that his best friend-cum-girlfriend, wanted to spend her private life with him. Which suddenly got him thinking of what she’d be like in the privacy of their own flat. Would she be neat and tidy as she usually was with her schoolwork, or would she leave her clothes strewn about the sitting room? Did she lean on the sink while she brushed her teeth? Or did she stare at herself in the mirror as she did so?

He only ever got to see her public personality, the one she shared with everyone when they first met her. Ron knew she had insecurities as most everyone else did, but she tried to hide them behind books more often than not. He remembered how nervous she was at the Yule Ball, which he frowned at, thinking about who had taken her instead. Hermione had only been a best friend of his then; she hadn’t been with him like she was now. She’d been free to date, or not date, anyone she had wanted too back in fourth year. Although, now, he knew he was the jealous type and a bit slow on the uptake. Why, look how long it had taken him to figure out Hermione was a girl (and a very attractive girl at that).

Ron hummed to himself as he ate, and Hermione briefly looked up at the noise, wondering what Ron was thinking about. It sounded a bit stupid to ask him about it. He was entitled to have private thoughts, after all. She assumed he was either thinking about Harry, or maybe her. She knew it sounded conceited to suggest he was thinking of her, when he could have just been thinking about the next Quidditch match coming soon. But she hoped he thought of her occasionally. Hermione knew she had dropped quite a large bomb on his head at her suggestion to live together. Although, what about Harry? She didn’t want to be away from him, either. They were best mates, maybe even soul mates to an extent. She, Ron and Harry worked well as a team. Obviously they had their share of arguments and disagreements, but she didn’t know how she’d handle having either boy completely out of her life.

Then again, Harry might just decide to stay with Malfoy, but she hoped he’d have time for her and Ron, too. She didn’t want to take all of Harry’s time away from Malfoy, if they even were a couple. Maybe they simply shagged and hung out occasionally. She had no idea what the two of them were doing gallivanting around Europe, making their way to Durmstrang. It was almost as if Harry had lost his mind completely and had taken Malfoy along for the ride. But that was another thing: why did Malfoy go along in the first place? Did he put some compulsion on Harry to make him think to go and Malfoy was only pretending not to know about what lay ahead, or had he planned it all to begin with?

Frustrated, she pushed her plate away, suddenly too anxious to finish her lunch. She wouldn’t know what all happened until Harry made it back and she prayed to whatever deity was listening that he would make it back in one piece. Most importantly, make it back home to Hogwarts: alive.

@>*~

Snape made barely any noise as he stalked through the corridors of Durmstrang. He was in quite a mood as witnessed by students making a wide berth around the Potions master. For the last few hours, Snape had been pacing the entirety of the castle, lost in his thoughts and trying desperately to avoid Voldemort. He had some inkling why the Dark Lord was demanding his presence: namely one Wormtail, who had most likely been spying on Snape the entire time he’d been inside the castle.

Severus was sure the students he was passing as he moved through the corridors, most likely thought he’d finally slipped his sprockets. For the last few days he was certain he’d felt his sanity oozing out his left ear as he’d confronted Malfoy and Potter, and later, Lucius. Snape had had this sudden uneasy feeling of someone watching his every move. He didn’t mean Wormtail, although he was on the lookout for any stray rats that scuttled across his path, but mainly it was as if he had the shadow of his own shadow tagging along.

He was approaching the hallway that led to his room when he felt as if he were being appraised by a pair of eyes. It certainly did not feel like mere paranoia this time. His eyes scanned everything as he passed by it. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt not only as if he were bring watched, but that there was something he should be doing or noticing.

Snape stopped, brow creased in disquiet, and turned around, going back the way he came. He paused in his steps, frowning to himself when he came upon the room he’d passed by just moments before. He thought he heard something, coming from that room. Warily, Snape's brow furrowed and he lingered, opening the door. He cautiously stepped inside, looking around for something amiss, anything, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. The Potions master closed his eyes, frowning deeply and shaking his head. Damn this place. He was starting to become more paranoid than Trelawney.

A few minutes had gone by before Severus opened his eyes. Sighing quietly to himself, he turned and walked into the corridor. Severus decided to head back to his room to lie down; he could feel a headache coming on. Severus had heard mumblings from people throughout the ranks that there was going to be a meeting soon, but nothing more beyond that. He hadn’t heard from the boys recently, but he knew he could easily find them if need be.

It was when he approached the hallway that would lead to his room that he felt as if he were being watched again. Sure this time that it was not his infernal paranoia, he turned sharply on his heel, going down the hallway opposite from where his room lay. He strode down the hall, not briskly but at a leisurely, unsuspicious pace, enough to fool even the Dark Lord himself, but he really should have watched where he was going instead. Severus was saved from landing on his arse when the person he had run into grabbed his arm to steady him. “What the hell are you doing inside!? Get out of the castle!” Snape fiercely hissed to the man he’d bumped into. Severus really shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d had a feeling that the man before him would show up. Stupid, bloody, insane Gryffindor.

"I had to come inside," Lupin idly declared, shrugging remorselessly.

Severus was able to keep himself from gaping at Lupin like a fish by sheer force of will. “Come inside? For what? If Greyback finds you, you won’t live to see the next full moon,” Snape snarled and paused, trying to catch his breath and calm down. “Lupin, go back to Lena, find the tavern on Witchsparrow Street, and wait for me, tomorrow night. We can’t afford to spare a second,” Snape said, rubbing at his temples. His head was beginning to hurt. Lupin nodded in agreement. He knew the place: that was the same tavern he’d been at previously when he’d overheard those two Death Eaters talking.

“I’ll show you the best place to exit the castle without getting caught,” Snape offered as he turned and headed towards what looked to be the kitchen area. Remus frowned as he followed after Severus until the Potions master stopped at the door. Severus pushed it open, making their way through the center of the kitchen, which was oddly deserted at the moment. _Maybe the house-elves are out cleaning_ , thought Remus absently. “This door is the way out,” Severus said, making a vague gesture at it.

“Albus knows what you told me before,” Remus had the urge to say suddenly, “but there isn’t much he can do. He can’t track the Death Eaters once we head back to Hogwarts and neither can he track us. Members of the Order can try to keep up, try to create diversions, or try to draw off some of those loyal to the Dark Lord.”

Snape nodded; they would just have to work around that. Lupin walked up to the door, brushing against Snape as he did so and pulled the door open. Lupin felt a hand on his back, pushing him outside and heard the door lock behind him.

Lupin sighed quietly to himself as he raised the hood of his robes over his head. He missed having the warmth of Severus’ hand on his back, even if it had only been brief in its contact. Lupin looked over his shoulder at where Snape had stood, almost longingly. He gathered his robes tighter to his body to fight off the chill in the air and started off for the gates so he could Apparate.

@>*~

Harry and Draco were having breakfast in the Great Hall. It was Draco who had decided that they needed to venture out into the school itself for at least one meal a day. Harry’s stomach was getting bigger and bigger each day, each hour, it seemed. Currently, Harry looked to be around six or seven months pregnant. The good thing about wearing their borrowed Durmstrang student robes was that they hid Harry’s ever-expanding belly very well.

Draco had a feeling that they were being watched, but after the incident in the Great Hall a few days previously, no one else had paid any attention to them. He wasn’t sure, but he thought that maybe the ‘boys’ from earlier when they had first arrived and heckled about wanting Draco’s arse, had really been Death Eaters in disguise. He wouldn’t put it past the Dark Lord to do something like that, since he really wanted Harry dead and buried.

@>*~

The Death Eaters were all gathered together, having been called to Voldemort’s rooms. As usual, Voldemort had not been there when his followers began to arrive. They all stood around, some murmuring to each other, while others looked quite bored. Others looked like they were on day four of a two-day binge, swaying where they stood like loose screen doors caught in a breeze.

The room quieted down as their Lord and Master came striding assertively into the room; his lips pursed, but with a ghost of a smirk, like a big, revoltingly pompous peacock. “As you all know,” the Dark Lord began, his silky voice low, yet reaching to every corner of the room as he stood before his gathered followers. "Harry Potter..." the boy’s very mention stirred the Death Eaters' interest, "...is in this very school, at this very moment." Voldemort complacently paused to allow his minions to murmur at his news before calling order with merely a furrowed brow. "He has been considerably weakened by a plan I had set in motion the second he set foot in this school. My Death Eaters...today is the day!" His voice was sharp, sure, and steadfast with conviction. "After today, there will be no more Harry Potter; the Boy Who Lived will be but another memory, spat on and spoken of with pride no longer, but ridicule! _Today_ , is that day, when we destroy Harry Potter and every Mudblood and blood traitor; today, the purebloods recapture what is rightfully ours!" A resounding roar thundered throughout the room of Death Eaters.

Only Snape clenched his hands into fists at this news. While he didn’t really like Potter all that much, he hadn’t known that the Dark Lord had done something to the boy, most likely putting the unborn child he carried at risk for no other reason but to weaken Potter even further and ultimately kill the boy. He should have expected this from the Dark Lord; the man certainly wasn't noble when it came to tactics.

Snape had tried catching the Dark Lord’s eyes throughout his little, ‘Look at me! I’m the Dark Lord!’ speech, but Voldemort never met his eyes. He was growing more and more desperate to leave and tell the Dark Lord where he could stick his ‘brilliant’ plans when Voldemort finally stopped speaking. All eyes were drawn to Severus when the Death Eaters wondered why their Lord had suddenly stopped in the middle of his speech. It was a distinct pause in his address, though only for a split second, but it had been enough. Snape controlled himself, blanking his features into that of unreadable indifference.

“You all know what to do,” his tone was gravelly, low, and dangerous. “Make sure the boy does not escape. He is to be brought back to me _alive_. I think it pointless to inform you that if he is brought to me dead, you will suffer the same fate as well, joining him in Hell,” Voldemort said, turning his back to his frightened Death Eaters, dismissing them. As the Death Eaters fanned out to obey their orders, Voldemort caught sight of Lucius and beckoned him closer. The blond’s fellows parted instantly down the middle upon seeing him, clearing a path to the Dark Lord. “Lucius, keep close to Severus. I feel he has something planned. Keep him within your sight,” Voldemort whispered to the blond grimly.

“Of course, my Lord,” Lucius replied with a bow before getting lost in the crowd of Death Eaters. He followed Snape for a few minutes before Snape blended into the crowd of Death Eaters and Lucius lost sight of him. If he knew anything about Snape, he knew he would most likely try to get the boys safely out of the castle. Lucius let him go, since it meant his son would be safely away from the Dark Lord’s whims.

@>*~

In all his years, the Potions master never lost his nerve; not even while faced with incompetent students exploding and destroying his classroom for some ten years. But now…Severus Snape was panicking. He dashed about from one winding corridor to another, avoiding his headhunting fellows and making quick strides toward the obvious interlopers. Snape needed to find the boys and find them now. If he didn’t, they would most certainly be caught and dragged to the Dark Lord.

Snape had no clue where they had disappeared to at the moment. He had turned up at their hiding place, where he'd told them to sleep--to _stay_ \-- void of the two young wizards. He cursed as he briskly paced the corridors; he didn't have a lot of time to search the entire school. Every Death Eater was already out searching for both boys, and they were nowhere to be found; bloody typical.

He'd always thought Draco the logical one of the two (there was no question about that), but he'd probably lost several brain cells that had drained through his cock from fucking Potter so often. Severus paused a moment, trying to think where they might be. It was early morning and the school did sound rather quiet. All the students would most likely be in the Great Hall, having breakfast, naturally. It suddenly occurred to him where the two of them might be and Snape felt like banging his head against the wall.

In a mad rush, he practically ran down the corridor, taking the steps he came across two at a time as he ran full out to the Great Hall. He just hoped the other Death Eaters were too stupid to think of checking the Hall first for them.

With as much grace as a stampeding elephant, Snape burst through the open doors of the Great Hall, ignoring the curious looks thrown his way. He quickly scanned the tables for any sign of the Hogwarts students and refrained from making a desperate sprint to the sighted table, opting to walk urgently instead.

Draco was sitting close to Harry, keeping an eye out for anyone who got too close to them without being too obvious about it. He raised his eyebrows until they almost disappeared into his hairline as he watched his Head of House power walk up to their table. It was a rather odd sight, and he was sure if he’d said something that impertinent to Snape, Slytherin would be drowning in negative points. Were they at Hogwarts, of course.

Draco opened his mouth to inquire what was going on when Snape interrupted, making indistinct hand gestures as he said, “Get up. We have to leave _now_!”

Draco stood up so quickly that he almost tripped over the hem of his robes, trying to get off the bench. Harry took longer to get up from his seat; his huge belly making it difficult to maneuver. Draco ignored Snape’s impatient sighing at this and helped Harry move from behind the table and into the aisle. He could feel every eye in the Hall on them, most of them not at all friendly.

As soon as Harry was away from the table, Snape turned on his heel and made his way quickly out of the Hall. Draco held Harry’s arm as they moved as fast as Harry’s current condition would allow.

Out in the corridor, Snape waited until the two boys were standing next to him. “Raise your hoods and follow me. Keep up, and don’t fall behind. We have no time to spare to wait on anyone. Stick close to me,” Snape instructed, pulling his own hood up in the process.

Draco and Harry followed Snape as they made their way down shifting corridors. They had to backtrack twice as they had been too slow going down one particular direction. Harry was beginning to pant and wheeze slightly at how quickly they were moving. Under normal circumstances, this fast pace that they were setting wouldn’t have bothered Harry in the slightest. But normally, he wasn’t six months pregnant, either.

@>*~

Lucius took his time getting back to Voldemort’s room. He knew Snape would try to find the boys and they’d make their way out of the castle. Lucius had not been happy to hear that Voldemort wouldn’t guarantee that his son would be spared. The blond wasn’t sure if Draco actually had feelings for the Potter boy or not, but Lucius knew without a shadow of a doubt that Draco wouldn’t be able to block his mind from the Dark Lord.

He entered Voldemort's room, thoughts immediately whisked from his mind as he came to a stop before the Dark Lord. Lucius watched, expression mildly curious, as Voldemort appeared to be staring off to the side, a blank look casing his features. From the gentle crease in his forehead, Lucius surmised the Dark Lord was keeping tabs on his followers. “News, Lucius?” Voldemort asked. Lucius barely kept himself from starting at suddenly having the Dark Lord’s full attention.

“I’m afraid I lost Severus in the crowd of Death Eaters, my Lord,” Lucius said, looking directly into the Dark Lord’s eyes. He found that Voldemort didn’t bother looking into the minds of his followers when they kept eye contact, thinking liars wouldn’t be able to. Lucius was glad the Dark Lord was always too preoccupied to realize some of the best liars were able to look one in the eye while lying through their teeth.

Voldemort hummed, a curious edge to the sound, as he regarded this bit of information. “I’m not able to pinpoint his location. He’s shielding himself from me…” The elder Malfoy frowned slightly, inquiringly watching as the Dark Lord trailed off, and his face suddenly went blank again. Lucius was going to walk out and roam the castle, perhaps join the others on the hunt when Voldemort leapt out of his chair. Lucius couldn’t hide his surprise this time. “No! Lucius, bring me back Severus, _now_!”

Lucius bowed his head, hiding his bewilderment. “As you wish, my Lord.” He turned around and made his way out into the corridor. _The Dark Lord must have finally found Severus_ , Lucius idly thought as he set out to complete his master’s orders, secretly hoping that when he found the elusive Potions master, his son would be nowhere in sight.

@>*~

They continued moving quickly through the ever-changing school corridors. After what felt like hours of running, backtracking, squeezing through crowds of milling students, they finally made it to the main chamber. Snape barely spared a glance at the two boys with him when he threw open the doors and ran outside, with his two charges following as closely as possible.

It was a long run to the gates, which Harry hadn’t paid much attention to when they’d first got to the Dark school. Of course, he didn't have a foot-long paunch hanging from his stomach when they'd first arrived, either. Now, it felt like he was carrying twenty extra pounds just in his stomach and he was getting a terrible stitch in his side. Draco had his hand on Harry’s arm the entire time, keeping him upright and pulling him along to keep up with Snape’s longer strides. He knew Harry was having a hard time of it, but he’d never seen his Potions master so freaked out before either.

They finally made it past the gates when Snape whirled around. “We have to Apparate _right fucking now_!” Snape all but screamed before closing his eyes and disappearing, leaving Harry and Draco to stare at the spot their professor had been standing in.

Draco pulled Harry close to him, placed a fierce kiss on his slack lips, and Apparated after Snape. Harry blinked hard before turning in a circle and gaping at the spot Draco had just been. _They left me! They just fucking left me!_ his mind screamed at him, inducing panic. He began breathing heavily, all the pent up frustration, fear and just everything from the last four or so weeks began to crash down around him. He took a moment, pausing to take a deep steadying breath as thoughts of his unborn child surviving all this mess came to him, making him calm down.

Closing his eyes, he thought of Draco, his silver blond hair, his grey eyes, how he had been so protective of Harry, even if Draco would deny it until he was blue in face. A sudden displacement of air, and Harry found himself across from Draco. He managed a smile before a wave of nausea brought him to his knees; vomiting up what little food he’d had earlier before Snape had come bolting in.

Draco went to him, helping him to his feet once the puking episode passed. Harry followed after Draco, whose hand was on his arm again, dragging him along after Snape, who had barely taken the time to make sure Harry was okay before running off again.

@>*~

“Lucius!”

Lucius turned around, eyeing his fellow Death Eater, of which, he couldn’t remember the name of. “Yes?”

“Potter got away! And Snape was with them. I think your son was with them too. I think it was your son, he looked an awful lot like you,” the man musingly said, ringing his hands together.

Lucius nodded, keeping it curt, and not grave. Malfoys crafted masks of stone, and he was loath to let news of his son possibly defecting influence him before a low-level comrade. “Tell the others, have them meet up in the main chamber, I have a feeling our Lord will not be pleased when he finds out about this.” The man paled at this, but nodded, running off down the hall to do as he was told. Lucius sighed to himself; he felt a headache coming on. Turning around, he made his way back down the hall, towards the Dark Lord’s room. He didn’t believe the Dark Lord would harm him for this bit of news, but he wouldn’t put anything pass him.

Lucius entered Voldemort’s room once more, the very room itself feeling as if one could cut the tension with a knife. It was an ominous feel, as if the Dark Lord knew more then what he was letting on. Lucius eyed the Dark Lord as he sat there, staring off into space, face blank as ever. He swallowed, steeling himself. “My Lord?”

Voldemort blinked, staring at Lucius. “Yes?”

Lucius paused, suddenly finding it little more than difficult to keep eye contact now, even though he wasn't about to spout untruths. "My Lord, Potter… got away. With Severus." Voldemort's expression gave nothing away. "They were last seen running down the lawns to the gates before Apparating."

Lucius was quite impressed that the Dark Lord went from expressionless to pissed off in no time flat. He began to inch away from the storm clouds brewing about the Dark Lord’s head; for a moment, he actually thought he could see them, but it had to be his imagination.

Voldemort leapt up from his chair, giving an inhuman scream as he whipped out his wand. Lucius looked worried for a moment that he'd be cursed, but instead Voldemort turned and destroyed the chair he'd been sitting on, the one that had been designed especially for him to sit his arse in. “Lucius, gather my followers into the main chamber! I will _not_ let Potter escape from me this time!” Voldemort snarled, passing Lucius and marching out the door, and down the hallway.

Lucius briskly nodded. "Already taken care of, my Lord," he called after him, stalling for a brief moment before following after his master

Voldemort stalked down the halls, face set with an almost constipated look, body rigid, turning as walls shifted and floors dropped or rose with each passing of time. He was on a mission: he was on the warpath, and if anyone fell in his way, he would not hesitate to step on them. When Voldemort rounded a corner and found himself boxed in by the shifting school, he waved his wand, blasting a sizeable hole. He continued in this vein: stop, blast, stop, blast until he made his way finally to the main chamber where his followers were gathered around, waiting for him.

Voldemort didn’t even stop once he came to the main chamber, ignoring his followers as he marched quickly but determinedly down the lawns towards the front gates. He couldn’t run, he wouldn’t dare; that was not dignified for a Dark Lord. As he went past the gates--because even he couldn’t Apparate inside of them--he stopped and turned wildly to his followers, who had traipsed along behind him.

“Macnair, Goyle, Crabbe: Head to Lena, scout out the entire town, interrogate anyone you have to and by any means,” Voldemort yelled, not watching to see if the men he addressed were carrying out his orders or not. They knew better then to disobey.

He continued in this vein, ordering his Death Eaters to different outposts Potter and the others may have been hiding out at, using the Dark Mark to send them messages, telling any of his followers _not_ at Durmstrang where to go and what to do.

All the while, Lucius hung behind, waiting for the Dark Lord to tell him where to go. He already had a plan of what he was going to do, but better to act like he was following orders then outright defy the Dark Lord. He may have been careless at times, but he was not stupid. He Disapparated as soon as the Dark Lord gave him his orders as well.

With orders given and his followers gone to follow them, Voldemort Apparated to look for Potter and the others also. He couldn’t spare any time waiting for news. He had to be out in the field, driving sheer fear and terror into the hearts of the precious innocent. He would find Potter and he _would_ put an end to this farce once and for all. He especially couldn’t wait until he got his hands on Snape, that traitor. No matter; it was his own fault for trusting the double agent. Never again.

@>*~


	12. Chapter 12

Draco and Harry followed their Potions master briskly down the footpath. Snape had slowed down quite a bit from his earlier pace now that a horde of Death Eaters and a manic Dark Lord weren't hot on their trail. Draco assumed it was from exhaustion. They had been moving non-stop for the last thirty or so minutes, heading to an area Snape seemed to know, but hadn’t mentioned to Draco. Harry was moving ever slower, the stress becoming almost too much for him. Draco understood the need to be quick, but if their baby continued to grow at such a rapid rate, he’d wager Harry would be giving birth in a few days’ time.

The boys almost ran into Snape when he stopped suddenly, dark eyes staring ahead. Snape grumbled to himself at seeing the one person he hadn’t been expecting to see, at least until tomorrow. Lupin hadn’t seen them coming toward him, as he had been looking in the opposite direction. Snape recovered and marched down the footpath with his two charges behind him. It wasn't until he heard someone clearing their throat beside him that he turned around. At seeing Severus, Remus opened his mouth to inquire what had happened when he received a heated glare from the Potions master. His mouth immediately snapped shut. Obviously, someone wasn't in the mood for an interrogation.

Remus turned his head to look at Harry when he heard the boy’s labored breathing, trying to get a breath in, and sat down, with the help of Draco, onto the bench beside where Lupin had been standing around, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious. With the boys settled, or as settled as one can be with the threat of the Dark Lord on his arse, Snape gave one last sneer at Remus before turning and Apparating away to God knew where.

Lupin sighed quietly before moving to where the two boys sat. “Come on, let’s get you two inside. Maybe get a cuppa while we’re at it,” Remus posed, helping Harry up from the bench, as they were too caught off guard at the moment to do anything but look at their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. As soon as Harry had risen from the bench, Lupin ushered them into the tavern, thankfully void of any Death Eaters at the moment.

As they made their way towards the tavern and past the threshold until they were actually standing inside the building itself, Lupin noticed that Harry seemed peculiarly more out of breath than he had been previously, when he had first caught sight of the two boys. His amber eyes looked down at the vicinity of Harry’s stomach when he felt it bump into his side. He barely held back his look of surprise, seeing Harry with a very round, very pregnant belly. The last time Remus had seen the two of them, Harry’s stomach had still been rather flat, and that had only been a few days ago. He didn’t know what all had happened; he just hoped he could get the answers to his questions before they had to move out again.

Draco followed sedately after the two men in front of him, peering cautiously around them for any unwanted surprises. His grey eyes landed back on Harry and Lupin, and he kept glaring at the hand on Harry’s arm that Lupin had taken to holding to pull them into the tavern. He had been too worried and surprised to put any thought in their destination earlier, but now that he had the time to cool down and not run like a dog with its tail between its legs, he had time to think. They had come all this way, spent all this time making their way to Durmstrang and for what?

When they’d met up with Snape the first time, he had told them to go hide in a damn broom cupboard--or supply cupboard, or whatever the hell it was they had slept in. Then, they had been left to fend for themselves while Snape did whatever he had to do that was so important. They’d maybe spent a total of ten minutes speaking with their professor before doing absolutely nothing constructive. What the hell? This whole trip had been nothing but a waste of time and energy. Draco was pretty damn sure that if and when they finally got back to Hogwarts, they would both more than likely be expelled for their idiotic behavior. Why in God’s name had he gone along with Potter’s spur-of-the-moment world tour in the first place?

Though thinking back on it, Draco realized their trip had had some reasoning behind it. He and Harry had gotten to know each other a little better. They weren’t fighting as much as they once had before the trip, and Draco found himself steadfastly protecting Harry (who he knew really didn’t need the protection, since he could take care of himself, usually) and their unborn child. It had to be a biological thing that was happening to him, making him want to care for Harry and protect him. Before he found out Harry was carrying his child, which he couldn’t help but notice now as Harry had continued to get larger as the days worn on, he didn’t care either way about Harry, except to wonder when he’d be able to find the time to stick his cock up the Gryffindor’s arse again.

Draco was brought out of his thoughts when they came to a semi-secluded table towards the back of the tavern. Remus waved at the barkeep, making complicated hand gestures to let the barkeep know what he wanted. The scruffy man nodded and went about fixing their drinks. Harry and Draco kept their hoods up, making sure their faces were completely hidden from the other patrons of the pub. After a few moments, the bar maiden came by with their drinks, (three butterbeers). Remus then threw a few gold Galleons at her, letting her know they’d prefer to be alone for the rest of the day. The bar maiden nodded and went on about her business; she had other customers to deal with and wasn’t offended in the least.

As soon as they were left to their own devices, Lupin turned so he was facing his two charges. “We should be safe here for the time being,” he began lowly, pausing to take a hearty swallow of his butterbeer. “This is the last place they’d expect you two to be at. With the Dark Lord presumably angry at your escape, he might be unable to focus on Harry’s whereabouts. I reckon he’s more concerned about his Death Eaters and Professor Snape, which is why he didn’t stay,” Lupin said, taking another sip of his drink.

He breathed out deeply, hoping Severus would be alright. He hadn’t had a chance to even let the Potions master know how he felt about him, and he really wanted to do so as soon as the situation would allow. If Severus didn’t return his affections, he’d understand; he’d be hurt of course, but he’d understand. After a moment of silence, Lupin began, “Professor Snape told me of a place we can go where we’d be safe for the night, or for most of it, at least.”

Harry nodded idly, still engrossed in his warm butterbeer. Draco took a sip of his own butterbeer, eyeing the patrons warily. He looked over as Harry sighed, unfastening his cloak and shifting in his seat, hand falling to his belly. Lupin curiously looked over at the movement near his elbow, watching in a daze as Harry rubbed circles on his expanded belly. Leaning over, Lupin moved his hand near Harry’s stomach. “May I?” he asked, placing his hand on the mound of Harry’s child at the boy’s nod of encouragement, lightly touching, a soft smile coming to his lips as he felt the life inside Harry moving and shifting.

Draco frowned at Lupin pawing at Harry as he was. He couldn’t help but glare heatedly as he watched Lupin murmuring at Harry’s stomach before pulling back with a smile on his face and reaching to take a drink of his butterbeer. Draco's fingers tightened on the neck of his butterbeer bottle; it was a miracle in itself that it didn’t shatter beneath the crush of his fingers. He wanted to jump up from his seat and yank Harry away from Lupin when the dark-haired boy leaned his head against Lupin’s side, closed his eyes, and sighed.

Harry had been so worried that he’d splinch himself going to Lena, but thankfully that hadn’t happened. He knew it wouldn’t be the last time he’d have to Apparate in a hurry, but it still worried him. Usually he had a few moments to picture Draco in his head before disappearing, but if he did have to go quickly, would he be able to without messing it up?

“Where are we going and how exactly are we going to get back without getting killed?” Draco asked with a bite to his tone, glowering at Lupin, who still had Harry latched onto him like a nymphet.

“I’m not sure, but I trust Professor Snape to come back and give us an idea of where to go next,” Remus replied, unaware of the looks of death Draco was giving him. “The Death Eaters are more than likely scouring the continent, looking for the two of you at the moment.”

Lupin was interrupted from saying anything further when a loud ‘pop’ was heard next to their table and Snape came bearing down on them. “Follow me,” he tersely demanded, walking away from their table and moving towards a dark, secluded part of the tavern. The others got up, Harry needing a hand from Draco to maneuver from the table without tripping over the legs of his chair; (Draco felt a smug satisfaction that Harry was leaning on him and not Lupin), and made their way to where Snape was standing, impatiently waiting for them. Once the three of them made it to Snape, he closed his eyes and Disapparated, leaving the three of them to follow suit.

@>*~

They arrived outside the entrance to what looked to be a hotel. Harry was surprised to see a few familiar landmarks. He couldn’t remember where exactly they were, but he knew he and Draco had been in the area while they’d been on their way to Durmstrang. Harry looked around, but Snape was nowhere to be found. He assumed that Snape had Apparated somewhere else right before they’d arrived, presumably to keep Voldemort and the Death Eaters from locating them so quickly.

Remus looked around to see where they were, seeing the hotel behind them as he turned. He walked towards the door, opening it, walking through, waiting for the boys to follow him inside before he went up to the desk clerk and requested a room. They didn’t have time for him to be picky in sleeping arrangements, so he took the first room the concierge gave him the key for.

They took the lift to their floor, walking down the hallway until they got to their room. Once inside, Lupin pulled his wand out and placed as many barriers and Locking Spells as he knew around the room to keep anyone from coming in while they slept.

There was only one bed in the room, and Lupin opted to sleep in the chair and let the boys have the bed, since Harry needed it more than he did. And he knew that Harry would need the comfort of having Draco close by, whether they were a couple or not. He could see the way Draco kept looking at him like he was a bug to be squashed under his boot heel. For what reason, he didn’t know, but he opted not to say anything to get the blond boy any angrier than he already seemed to be.

Harry sat down on the bed, ‘oomping’ a little at the awkward sprawl he found himself in. He had to spread his legs wider than he usually did to accommodate his large belly. It felt like his belly was trying to take over his entire front by getting in the way of everything. He felt like, and probably looked like, a straw that had a pea stuck in the middle of it. He was still quite skinny, except for the small bulge hanging off of him. With a little sigh, he removed the cloak he’d taken from Durmstrang, then his own robes, pausing a moment as his arm got stuck in the sleeves, then he leaned back a bit as he brought his leg up to remove first one shoe, then the other.

Draco also sat on the bed, across from Harry in his usual spot he always seemed to find himself in when they were in a hotel room. He had turned when he heard a slight grunt come from the other boy when he had taken his shoes off. Harry hadn’t taken his shirt off, only his sweater, so Draco followed suit, keeping his own shirt and trousers on. They did have another person in the room, and Draco really didn’t feel like stripping down to his skivvies in front of their professor. He felt like growling when he saw Harry heave himself off the bed and waddle (because that was the only way one could describe the way Harry had made his way over) to Lupin.

Lupin looked up when Harry was standing in front of him, surprised when the boy awkwardly got down to his knees and placed his head on Remus’ knee. Harry’s face pointed towards the bed, sighing as Lupin hesitated only a moment before petting Harry’s head. Draco growled low in his throat, but not loud enough to be heard, before he stormed off to the loo to take a piss and maybe break something, preferably over Lupin’s head.

When Draco was finished with his business, he found Harry in bed with the covers over him. He looked to Lupin, who shrugged and explained, “He fell asleep, so I levitated him to the bed and pulled the covers over him.” Draco nodded stiffly and made a show of getting into bed himself. It took him a few moments to actually fall asleep. He knew he really shouldn’t be so jealous of Harry wanting Lupin’s attention. There hadn’t been anything sexual whatsoever about the way Harry was acting, but it irked him nonetheless to have his supposed lover seek comfort from someone who wasn’t him. Maybe he just thought of Lupin as a father figure, and he would have done the same thing if his father had been there instead.

Draco finally fell asleep, Harry having rolled over and snuggled into his side as he usually did. Lupin had opted to stay awake for a little while longer, just making sure nothing out of the ordinary happened, like say, a few dozen Death Eaters, or the Dark Lord himself, storming the room.

@>*~

It had been a long time since the sitting room of the Burrow had seen such a large number of occupants, and none of them sporting red hair. Molly bustled into the sitting room, carrying in refreshments from the kitchen. Order members were strewn about the house, looking quite bored really, but with worried expressions on their faces nonetheless. There was a sudden crash from upstairs as Tonks made her way to the others, sheepishly apologizing for the mess she had made.

Albus Dumbledore sat back, worrying his beard, brow furrowed as he listened to Shacklebolt report on what he'd been told from reliable spies and informants. Dumbledore had managed to get some Portkeys in order to get them back at a moment’s notice. He didn’t think it was likely they would find them, Harry and Draco and Remus and Severus, but it was always worth the chance.

Dumbledore was distracted, thinking of the boys, hoping they were safe, since even he didn’t know everything that happened in the world, although he wished he did most times, especially times like these. He looked up when Molly offered him something from the refreshment tray; he waved her off, not feeling up to eating at the moment. He tuned back in to the noises around him, catching the tail end of Shacklebolt’s report.

“…my informants tell me they haven’t heard, nor seen anything regarding the two boys.”

@>*~

“Harry. Harry, come on, son; wake up.”

Harry blurrily opened his eyes at the touch to his shoulder. He was confused for a few moments as he woke up, wondering where he was. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, he took a long moment to sit up, having to use his hand to brace himself against the bed as he sat up sideways, and grabbed his glasses from the side table, placing them onto his face. “What…” he began, breaking into a yawn. “What’s going on?”

“Professor Snape will be here any minute,” Remus said worriedly, perhaps even with a hint of urgency, turning to head into the loo and do his business.

Harry didn’t like the worried tone in Lupin’s voice, but he had no other choice than to put faith in what his friend was saying. Harry sighed and shook his head; getting up from the bed was a chore in and of itself, but he finally managed it. He picked up his clothes from off the floor and got dressed.

Draco had woken up not long before Harry had. He had heard Lupin scuttling about the room, moving towards the bed and shaking Harry awake. Draco hadn’t opened his eyes until Harry had begun to dress. He hadn’t been surprised Lupin had chosen Harry to wake up instead of himself, since Lupin hadn’t been sure how Draco would’ve taken it.

Draco had felt oddly detached about the entire situation since they left Durmstrang. He wasn’t used to having another person with he and Harry while they had traveled around the world as it were. Lupin had been the first person to even be in the same room with them alone, and it bugged him, not knowing what to think, or what Lupin himself was thinking.

For all Draco knew, Lupin was probably sitting there, thinking nothing but bad thoughts about him. Lupin probably didn’t want him anywhere near Harry, and he was probably wondering how he could keep Draco from being any more involved in Harry’s life. He couldn’t blame the werewolf; he wasn’t a perfect person, having grown up with his father putting pureblood ideas into his head, but that didn’t mean he didn’t care somewhat for Harry. Look how he’d taken care of Harry on the whole trip to Durmstrang and while they’d been inside the Dark school.

Draco was brought out of his thoughts (glad he had finished dressing while thinking things over) by a forceful knock on the door. Lupin ran to the door, wand in hand as he opened it cautiously. Standing there, glaring heatedly at the werewolf, was Snape, who walked into the room with his robes billowing behind him.

“Good to see you’re all up and dressed,” Snape said without preamble, looking around at everyone in the room. Snape looked tired, but determined. “I’ve been Apparating all over the continent and even further, trying to keep the Death Eaters and especially the Dark Lord from being able to pinpoint my exact location,” he explained, taking a seat at one of the chairs by the window. “I’ve been trying to find a safe location for you three to Apparate to without being noticed.”

“Have you had any problems, Severus?” Remus asked worriedly, hoping the Potions master hadn’t run into anyone or anything to pose a potential threat, whether they worked for the Dark Lord or not.

Snape sighed quietly. “None so far. I have run into a few snags along the way, but nothing to worry about. It wouldn’t have been such a problem if the Dark Lord himself weren’t actively searching for me,” he replied, closing his eyes as exhaustion hit him for a moment. He couldn’t rest though, not until everyone was safely back at Hogwarts. He gasped lightly to himself, barely audible in the room as his Dark Mark began burning more fiercely than the day before. The Dark Lord was very serious about finding where he was: he kept sending messages to his followers and extraordinary pain to him via the mark on his forearm. It took all of Snape’s strength to ignore the burning sensation and to try and keep the Dark Lord out of his mind.

“Lupin, I need you to report to Dumbledore. Tell him all that has happened. I’ll stay here and take these two to the spot I found where they should be safe for a little while.”

Remus nodded, wanting to walk over to Severus, hold him in his arms and never let him go. He had no idea if any of them would make it back to the safety of the school or if they’d be found and killed on sight. He just couldn’t make his feet walk over to the man he had feelings for, and kiss his breath away. Remus opted for staring Severus in the eyes instead, giving the Potions master a look he hoped conveyed what he was feeling, but knowing Severus, he would probably mistake it for being scared about the boys. Remus turned on his heel and walked out the door, Apparating back to the school to find Dumbledore and tell him the news.

@>*~

Voldemort was back at Durmstrang where it was easier for him to conduct his affairs and keep track of his followers than being out and about in the middle of chaos. He stared off to the side, searching through his Death Eaters’ minds, trying to locate a certain one. Aha! After finding the person he wanted, his eyes came back into focus and he called forth the person he’d been looking for via the Dark Mark.

Wormtail felt the call in his mark and Apparated quickly back to the Dark school, outside of the gates. He quickly made his way to the entrance of the school and through the corridors until he reached the Dark Lord’s door. Clearing his throat, stealing himself, he knocked on the closed door, waiting to be beckoned inside.

Voldemort pulled his wand out of his robes and waved it at the door, opening it and admitting the traitor into his room. “What have you found out, Wormtail?” he asked, fixing his steely gaze on Peter.

Peter took in a steadying breath and scuttled towards Voldemort, bowing and simpering as he went. “My Lord,” he began, keeping his head down, “there has been no sign of Snape or Potter; your followers are still searching, but they are having no luck.”

“What about earlier in Snape’s room? Surely you found something out while you were there listening to his conversation.”

“My Lord, do you not already know?” Peter asked his lord, making an odd, bewildered face at the floor.

“Know what, Wormtail?” Voldemort snapped, losing his patience with the rat.

“Potter is with child, my Lord.”

Voldemort swiftly got up from his chair, blasting one of the sconces off the wall. “Fool!” Peter cowered at this, hoping he wouldn’t be cursed for his useless information. “I know this bit of news already! Is there anything new to tell me, or are you simply wasting my time?” Voldemort snarled, furious at the incompetence of his followers.

“N-No, my Lord, that is all I know,” Peter said, cringing away as Voldemort abruptly turned and went back to sit in his chair; he had repaired it earlier when he had gone back to the school.

Voldemort was slowly losing what little patience he had with how everything was going wrong. His plans were brilliant, no question; it was his followers who couldn’t find their way out of a paper bag if their lives depended on it. Closing his eyes for a moment, Voldemort summoned Lucius to him. It took a few long minutes for the blond man to show up in his room, but he had finally arrived. “My Lord?” Lucius asked, wondering why he was being summoned when he was supposed to be out looking for his son and the others.

“Ah, Lucius: I want you to take Wormtail here with you to your manor. Have him wait there and report back to me if he sees Potter show up.”

“You believe Potter will hide out at my home?” Lucius asked skeptically. He wasn’t sure why the Dark Lord thought Potter would show up at his place, unless Draco thought it’d be a good hiding place, but he didn’t think his son was that stupid… or was he?

Voldemort leaned back in his chair. “I’m not discounting anything at the moment, Lucius,” he replied, looking at Lucius with an appraising eye. “I want you to go out and search any places you think Snape would turn up, thinking it safe to do so. Do not fail me, Lucius.” Voldemort was sure Potter and the others would be found. There was no place on the planet that they were safe from him. Even Hogwarts wasn’t all that safe, having less defensive protection than Durmstrang.

“My Lord,” Wormtail suddenly spoke up, getting the Dark Lord’s full attention. “My Lord, Dumbledore is aware of what is happening and is getting together members of the Order to help in searching for Potter.”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at Peter. “Can you enlighten me, Wormtail,” Voldemort began, voice steadily rising into a bellow, “as to why you are just now telling me this vital piece of news, when I had asked if you knew anything else?”

Peter finally glanced up at his lord, a confused look on his face. “But...you asked about Snape, my Lord. Not Dumbledore...”

He pierced Wormtail with the blackest of looks, but he couldn't be too hard on the rat: after all, he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box. At least, Voldemort didn't think he was. It could have all been a ruse, since he’d been able to fool his friends into thinking he was on the side of good. Voldemort took a moment to call his followers back since that interfering man, Dumbledore, was no doubt sending out his own followers and Voldemort needed to regroup for a moment. It took a while for the Death Eaters to arrive, and Voldemort frowned as he sensed something from a few of the others who hadn’t arrived yet.

“Lucius!” Voldemort called, standing up from his chair and rounding on the blond man.

“My Lord?”

“Where are the rest of the Death Eaters? A few of my followers are not obeying my summons,” he informed, looking right at Lucius. Lucius had to be involved in this somehow; the Death Eaters followed only two people: him and Lucius.

“I don’t know, my Lord. They should be coming back,” Lucius said, staring into the Dark Lord’s eyes. He knew where they were, of course he knew, but he wasn’t going to say. He had his own plans in the works, and he sure didn’t want Voldemort messing with them.

Voldemort threw his head back, screaming loud enough to shake the very foundation of the school as he turned and blasted the closest thing to him, which happened to be his chair, which he’d just fixed not long ago. “Lucius, what are you playing at? I _know_ you’re involved in this somehow, and I will not stand by and let some aristocratic blond idiot betray me!”

“My Lord,” Lucius calmly replied, “I don’t know what you are going on about. I had nothing to do with your followers not obeying orders. I have been out searching for the Potter boy myself, as you commanded.”

Voldemort gripped his wand tightly, itching to curse Lucius into next week, but he couldn’t if he wanted to get to the bottom of why some of his Death Eaters weren’t obeying him. He’d given them their orders: they had to obey them, or else.

@>*~

Dumbledore paced back and forth within his office, pausing occasionally to look at the sun rising outside his window, casting orange and red light as it crested into the sky. Dumbledore was worried he wouldn’t be able to lend a hand to stop Tom this time. He wasn’t sure if he should find Harry before the boy returned to Hogwarts.

Albus was trying to stay out of Harry’s life, letting the boy find his own way towards becoming an adult. The boy needed his guidance occasionally, but was it needed this time? Harry hadn’t told him about the child he carried within him, keeping it to himself, even though he knew that Dumbledore was a master at Legilimency and would have found out anyway just by looking into Harry’s eyes.

He knew Harry was quite capable of taking care of himself, with or without the help of others, but was it his fault if he had a fondness for the boy? As if Harry were his grandson, and he, the grandfather. Dumbledore stopped for a moment to look at Fawkes, petting the Phoenix adoringly as he trilled softly at his master and friend. Dumbledore turned as his office door was opened, seeing Remus standing just inside, quietly.

“Ah, Remus,” Dumbledore greeted, smiling brightly at his fellow professor. Remus sighed and turned, shutting the door.

@>*~

After Apparating from Lena, they found themselves outside the gates of a huge mansion. Its graying walls, unkempt lawns and vines creeping along the outside showed that it had not been in use for years, maybe even decades. It seemed somewhat familiar to Draco as he glanced around the front of the mansion, squinting to try and see if he could spot anything amiss, but all seemed quiet.

Harry got up from his knees, with the help of Draco, as he finished puking. It seemed he’d never get over puking after Apparating until after he had the baby; at least he hoped it was only from being pregnant. If this happened while he wasn’t pregnant, he didn’t think he’d ever Apparate again in his life. He much preferred using a broom to travel, anyway.

Snape walked up to the gates, glad to find them unlocked and barely hanging onto the adjoining masonry, making it easy to push them open, admitting them onto the grounds. He walked up the front path, Harry and Draco following behind him. Once they reached the front door, Snape used his wand to unlock it; they opened into the front parlor with an ominous squeak, clouds of dust and cobwebs falling to the floor after at last being disturbed.

Harry looked around, hearing the heels of his shoes making loud clicks on the dirty marble floor as he walked. Draco inhaled through his nose as he recognized without a doubt where they were. Turning to Snape, he asked, “This is one of the abandoned Malfoy mansions, isn’t it?”

“Yes. This one’s in Germany,” Snape replied, walking further into the old mansion, passing portraits as he did so.

“Wer ist dort?” they heard called from somewhere above their heads. Draco looked up and found it was one of the portraits addressing them. They ignored the portraits as they continued to walk down the hallway.

Harry paused in his step for a moment when the portraits began yelling,

“Du bist unverheiratet und läßt es zu, dass dich jemand besudelt!”

“Deine Tugend zerstören! Du hattest von Anfang an keine, Schwuchtel!”

“Schmutziger Schlammblüter-Abschaum, Verräter!”

"Schwanger mit einem Bastard!" as they continued down the hallway. Harry didn’t know what the portraits were saying, or shouting as it were, but the way Draco’s shoulders were tensing, it wasn’t anything friendly. He seriously doubted they'd throw in a polite, "Hello, welcome to our mansion!" and at the same time greet him, or someone, with 'bastard'.

Draco was getting angrier and angrier as the portraits continued to shout insults and obscenities at them. Although, it seemed like they were focused more so on Harry than he or Snape. After half a meter, they finally left the hallway and the shouting portraits behind, Draco wanting nothing more than to light the foul portraits of his ancestors ablaze.

The mansion was still protected by old spells that were set about the place, hopefully keeping them safe at least until daybreak when they would have to leave to find a different place to stay. Draco turned to look at Snape, who had stopped at the foot of a staircase, more than likely leading up to rooms in which they could sleep for the night.

“How did you know how to get here?” Draco asked, curious.

Snape didn’t bother to turn and look at Draco as he replied, “Well, I was good friends with your father, but I doubt that would be how to term the relationship now. We used to spend a lot of time together in our youth; even when he left school, we still kept in touch. We used to travel around a lot together: scoured the history books and genealogy to find these places. There are many, and if Lucius has been deployed with the search party, he will no doubt look in many of these places, which would be safe for a little while.”

Draco nodded, not knowing what to say to this explanation, really, and right now he was too tired to say much more. He knew Harry had to be tired too by the way his eyes were barely staying open. It was still early in the day, but they had woken up just as the sun began to rise, so they hadn’t had much sleep before they had to rush off.

They made their way up the staircase, finding a hallway that most likely led to rooms. Draco wasn’t sure if there was still furniture in the rooms, but he’d transfigure his underwear into a bed if he had to so he’d be able to sleep on something besides the dusty floor. He and Harry had their own room to sleep in, while Snape chose the room next to them. The walls were thick enough so if Snape snored while he slept or something, Draco wouldn’t have to stick a sock into his mouth to keep him quiet as he tried to rest.

Draco opened the door to their room, thanking whomever, that there was a bed in the room. It needed a good cleaning before one could sleep on it, so that’s what Draco did as he took out his wand and cast a Cleaning Spell on the bed. Harry had woken up a bit, since that always happened to him. He’d be right about ready to fall asleep and when he was actually on the way to go to sleep, he was wide awake. He was sure it was just nerves making him like that now, but it could be anything for all he knew.

Draco closed the door to their room after cleaning the bed and began to take his clothes off. Since he was tired and since Harry had seen him naked many times already since they began their weird relationship and traveled together for such a long time, he decided to strip down to just his underwear. He knew Harry didn’t care all that much as long as his underwear was clean and he wasn’t singing the Hogwarts school song as he did so.

Harry did likewise, stripping down to his underwear, but he kept his shirt on, thinking that Draco wouldn’t like seeing his large stomach. The last time they had been almost naked and in bed with each other, sleeping or otherwise, Harry’s stomach had still been rather flat. Now though, Harry had a protruding stomach that was on the verge of being able to open doors all on its own. He got into bed on his usual side, but still turning towards Draco when the blond climbed into bed also, and snuggled as much as he could against the blond.

Draco lay there on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he felt Harry’s stomach touching his side while Harry tried to get into his usual position he slept in. He understood why Harry opted to keep his shirt on since he wasn’t too keen on seeing his child moving around inside of Harry’s body just yet. He’d only had maybe two weeks or so to get used to the idea of there actually being a little person there, growing inside of his lover, but to actually see it moving was a whole other can of worms.

He felt Harry’s hand rubbing circles on his stomach, nothing sexual about it, merely doing it for comfort since they hadn’t had a chance the last week to really touch and get connected. When he and Harry had begun having sex with each other, wanted or not, they had pawed one another throughout it. Draco had grown used to having the dark-haired boy with him almost every single day recently and it was going to be hard to sleep by himself again in his own bed, in his own dormitory, once they got back to Hogwarts. He doubted that Dumbledore would let him and Harry share a room, parents to be or no, since they were still in school, and if they were even allowed to finish without getting expelled, he didn’t think the Headmaster was going to toss out rules and regulations just for them; no matter whether Harry got to get away with things or not.

Harry continued rubbing Draco’s bare stomach, enjoying the feel of the soft skin he felt under his hand. He was in the mood for more intimate caresses and sharing of each other’s bodies, but he wasn’t sure how Draco felt about it. Was Harry still attractive, even somewhat, to Draco, or did his larger stomach disgust him now? Harry didn’t really know, but he was prepared to find out. Sitting up awkwardly on his elbow, Harry leaned over to press a soft kiss to Draco’s lips.

Draco didn’t respond at first, but did soon after, opening his mouth to the other boy as Harry slipped a hesitant tongue inside his mouth. Draco raised the hand not underneath Harry and placed it on the back of Harry’s head, bringing him in to lean closer to the blond boy beneath him. Harry sighed happily into the kiss, glad that even if Draco decided not to go any further, he’d at least get to have this before the baby came.

Harry continued the kissing, pulling back when Draco made motions to sit up a moment, pulling his boxers down his hips and legs, and off his feet, flinging them down to the floor on his side of the bed. Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow and did likewise with his own, although it was awkward for him, since he had this huge belly in the way and could barely see his cock to take a piss, but he managed. Draco moved to grab the hem of Harry’s shirt, to take it off, but Harry grabbed his hands, shaking his head. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep the shirt on. I feel funny having my stomach out for the world to see.” Draco nodded, understanding this and left the shirt alone.

Draco lay back down on his back, gesturing for Harry to come closer to him. Harry smiled down at Draco and resumed their kissing, gasping into Draco’s mouth as he felt him grab his cock. It was weird, grasping the dark-haired boy’s cock and having his stomach almost right on top of his hand as he stroked the length up and down. Harry was glad that their baby decided to either sit still or was asleep, because he didn’t feel any movement at the moment from the little critter inside him when, usually, Harry would suddenly feel a punch to his ribs. Their baby really loved sucker-punching Harry when he did something it didn’t like or he moved in a certain way.

Harry reciprocated the touch, moving his own hand down to Draco’s cock, oozing pre-come and twitching a bit as he moved his hand along the length. Draco sighed quietly into Harry’s mouth, enjoying the feel of the boy holding and squeezing his cock. After a moment or two, Draco pulled away from Harry and bent over the side of the bed, rummaging around inside of their bag, looking for his hand oil. He sat up on the bed, bottle in hand once he found it, and turned to Harry. Harry nodded and got up onto his hands and knees, putting a pillow near his belly to try and keep some of it off of the bed. He frowned when Draco shook his head. “No? Then how do you want me?” Harry asked, raising an inquiring eyebrow at the blond.

“I…” Draco licked his suddenly dry lips, blinking at Harry’s intense stare. “I don’t want to… do you. I…um, I actually want _you_ to do me,” Draco said, blushing slightly. He didn’t normally blush when talking about sex, but for some reason, he felt a bit embarrassed in asking Harry to do this for him, and he was right by the way Harry’s eyes widened in shock; it was almost comical.

“Are you sure?” Harry asked, looking Draco in the eyes to see if the blond boy was taking the piss with him. He hoped Draco wasn’t leading him on, getting his hopes up, only to laugh in his face right before taking Harry from behind, or whatever position he decided to do.

Draco saw the expressions run through Harry’s face as he became lost in his thoughts, waiting for Draco to reply. “I’m sure,” he said, a bit more believably this time, breathing out heavily. He wanted this with Harry, he truly did, but his one and only time as bottom with Blaise hadn’t been all that magical or special. He just hoped that choosing to bottom for Harry would be a better experience this time than it had been last time.

Draco opened his mouth to accept Harry’s insistent tongue when he felt it licking along his lips at his answer, nervous as if it were his very first time ever. Harry seemed to sense his nervousness, leaning over and caressing his body with light touches. Harry sat back on his heels, looking down at the blond boy in awe. Harry scooted down on his arse until he was near Draco’s groin, leaning over it; he blew a hot breath on it, making Draco suck in a sudden breath at the feel. Harry had tried doing this once before, but he’d been so into his own cock down Draco’s throat that he hadn’t finished sucking off Draco.

Harry hoped he was doing this right, since he had been very hesitant the last time. He stuck his tongue out tentatively, licking along the head, causing Draco to gasp at the touch. Harry felt encouraged by the noises Draco was making and lowered his head, taking in as much as he could without choking or gagging. Draco’s eyes closed at the wet, hot heat of Harry’s mouth, growing crazy with each suck the dark-haired boy did on each pull upward.

Soon, Draco couldn’t take it anymore, coming inside Harry’s mouth with a soft keen. Harry had actually blown him, and Draco wasn’t sure what to think, since he knew the Gryffindor had never done it before, to him or anyone, for that matter. Harry pulled back, coughing a little after he swallowed, wanting to stick his tongue out at the nasty, bitter taste of Draco’s come, but he held himself back. If Draco had been able to take it all and not gag or spit it out, so could he; even if the come itself had been revolting, he actually quite liked going down on Draco.

Draco took a moment to get his breathing back under control, moving his hand around the bed near his side until he found the bottle of oil he’d taken from his bag earlier. Harry watched, mesmerized at the sight of Draco oiling up his finger and bringing it down to his hole, pushing it in to stretch himself. Closing his eyes, Draco slipped a second finger into himself, followed by a third not long after, pushing them in as far as they could go in his awkward position. He did this himself because he knew Harry had never done this sort of thing before and he wanted to be totally sure that he was properly prepared before he let anything go up his arse, especially since Harry wasn’t a small boy. He wasn’t overly large or scary, but he was definitely a little bigger than three fingers together, although not by much.

Feeling he had prepared himself long enough (he would never admit that he was stalling for time), Draco lay back down on the bed, onto his back, lifting his legs to his chest, grabbing the backs of his thighs to keep them there. Harry gave Draco an odd look, not sure how exactly this was going to work with him having such a large belly getting in the way and such. Draco looked over at Harry, waiting. “Pour some of the oil into your hand and rub it along your cock,” he supplied helpfully, thinking Harry was hesitating because he didn’t know what to do next.

Harry almost wanted to tell him ‘well, no shit,’ but refrained from doing so. He knew Draco was nervous, as if he was about to get beat about the head with a bat. Harry shifted awkwardly towards Draco’s body, hoping that his stomach wouldn’t get in the way too much; it wasn’t like he could move it over to hang off the side or anything, although he wished he could sometimes: it would make tying the laces of his shoes easier. Grabbing one of Draco’s legs, Harry used his other hand to guide his cock to the entrance of Draco’s body, lining it up to the loose and glistening hole in front of him. Closing his eyes, and taking a deep breath, Harry pushed in slowly, listening for any grunts of pain the boy beneath him might have uttered at the intrusion. Draco took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as he felt Harry pushing his way inside of his body.

It bloody hurt, but Draco refrained from commenting or making any noise aside from his rapid breathing. He looked up briefly to see Harry’s face, eyes closed, lower lip caught between his teeth, before Draco closed his eyes, or he’d have very weird images of seeing his very pregnant lover shagging him. Harry tensed up at the tight feel of Draco’s passage squeezing along his length; he was already so close to coming from the tightness, he had to hold still before he’d had more than half of his cock inside the blond boy. Taking a deep breath, Harry pushed in until he couldn’t anymore, balls resting against Draco’s arse. Draco squirmed a moment, getting comfortable for the shagging he had initiated, well, his shagging, anyway. Harry was the one who had wanted to feel him up.

Harry pulled back slowly before pushing back in. He did this a few times, nice and slow, enjoying the way Draco felt around him, and how he felt being inside Draco. Draco tossed his head back at the feelings building up inside him, not just of being shagged, but also of letting Harry be the one doing the shagging. He was putting a lot of trust in the boy above him, letting him enter his body and control the pace, instead of the other way around. Draco couldn’t help the tears that began flowing down his cheeks: he was still scared even though Harry was taking his time, making sure it was good for Draco each time he thrust his hips. Harry opened his eyes at the little noise that escaped Draco’s lips, pausing to lean down, as much as his stomach would allow, and placing a sweet kiss on his mouth, wiping at the tears on Draco’s cheeks.

Draco never knew it could be like this; he still didn’t like being the one on the bottom, being used for someone else’s pleasure as he lay there taking it. But he now understood what Harry went through every time he allowed Draco into his body, feeling possessed, feeling full, feeling used. No, actually he didn’t feel used, per se, but that he was giving his body over for someone he may not actually have loved, maybe not now, maybe not ever, or maybe in the future, he could learn to love Harry, but right now he felt wanted, and not just for his arse.

“Draco, I can’t hold back any longer, I’m sorry,” Harry said as his thrusting picked up in speed, going faster and harder, impaling Draco on each push forward, drawing back slower then pushing in, feeling each and every little ridge along his length. After a few more of these fast-paced thrusts, he finally came, throwing his head back and crying out as he emptied his essence into the boy beneath him. Draco felt Harry’s come spurt inside of him, but he hadn’t come himself. In fact, he had remained soft the entire time, only a slight rise, only mild interest, from his cock.

Harry didn’t notice Draco’s flaccid cock, pulling out very slowly after he came, until he glanced down and moved to put his mouth onto Draco’s cock. Draco placed a hand on Harry’s head, stopping him. “No, it’s okay, Harry. I came already; don’t worry about it,” he said, looking at Harry. Harry opened his mouth to object, but Draco shook his head. “It’s okay, honestly.”

Harry gave him a skeptical look, but decided not to push the issue. Draco had his reasons and who was he to question them? Tired and feeling very drained, Harry moved until he was on his side of the bed again, lying down on his side, facing Draco. Draco got out of bed, wincing at the slight stab of pain radiating from his arse, to grab a washcloth from the bathroom, using it to clean first himself, and then Harry. He was finally able to get to sleep, for another few hours anyway, before they had to be up and dressed to Apparate to their next, currently unknown, location. Harry closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Draco soon followed Harry into sleep not long after, content in a way at what he’d given to Harry.

@>*~

Minerva McGonagall seemed distracted. Her students seemed to notice, and periodically turned to give each other quizzical looks. "Professor,” Hermione tentatively called to gain her attention, “weren't you talking about how complex the anatomy of a dog was in relation to transfiguring one into a bookcase?"

McGonagall blinked behind her square spectacles, impassively. "Oh, oh, yes, yes. Thank you, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said ponderingly, shifting through the notes laid out on her desk.

The students watched, murmuring quietly among themselves, as their professor went off subject once more. Hermione quirked an eyebrow at her teacher, wondering what on earth was wrong with their professor, who was more often than not meticulous and tidy with her notes and stern teaching skills, that made her so suddenly flabbergasted.

Hermione thought that perhaps Professor McGonagall was thinking about the situation with Harry, as both she and Ron often did. Earlier in the day, the Headmaster had called her and Ron into his office, telling them what he had found out in the recent reports he’d gathered from other members of the Order. Ron had of course gone into a tizzy, face red, breathing coming out more rapidly as they were told the information. Hermione knew Professor McGonagall was a member of the Order also, and had most likely heard the same news Hermione and Ron had.

Hermione looked up, startled at the mention of her name from Professor McGonagall. True, she hadn’t been paying attention for the last few minutes, but she had already read the entire book they were using for class. “It would take ten minutes for one to transfigure the dog into a bookcase, or any piece of furniture the caster so desired,” Hermione answered, blinking at the sudden frown that appeared on her teacher’s face. Even Ron had given her a funny look.

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger; that answer is not correct. It takes only _four_ minutes for one to do the transfiguration,” McGonagall replied lightly. She didn’t take any points away from Gryffindor since she suspected the reason for this was due to Hermione being preoccupied over the latest information about Potter and Malfoy.

Hermione felt herself blush, close to tears, at having given the wrong answer. To prevent this from happening again, McGonagall refrained from calling on her again unless she put her own hand up in the air. She knew that Hermione knew the correct answer; hence, she hadn’t deducted points.

They spent the rest of the period reading after McGonagall lost her place again. She wanted to toss her hands in the air and exclaim ‘for heaven’s sake!’, but she didn’t, of course. The other students seemed to sense something was going on, but they had no clue as to what. So, wisely, no one said anything or snickered at Hermione for having given the wrong answer. Hermione really hoped Harry was going to be okay, because she couldn’t afford to make another mistake. There were only six months left until they took their NEWTs, and based on today’s dreadful performance, she had a lot of studying to do!

@>*~

Snape woke up as soon as the first rays of light hit the window of the room he’d slept in. He couldn’t believe they had stayed at the old mansion for almost an entire day. He must have been more exhausted and worn out from all the Apparating than he had previously thought. The Potions master almost swore, wondering why Draco hadn’t woken up to get him when he paused in that thought. Of course Draco wouldn’t have woken him up. For one, he hadn’t told the two boys to do so and two: the boys were probably exhausted as much as he had been. Especially since he knew they had only slept on the floor and not in a proper bed while they’d been waiting at Durmstrang.

Snape sat up in bed, reaching for his boots and putting them on to his feet, tying up the laces before he stood up. He opened his door and walked to the room the boys were occupying, knocking harshly. He wasn’t sure what the two boys had or hadn’t done the day before, and he wasn’t looking forward to seeing either boy starkers or possibly in the middle of shagging.

“One moment,” Snape heard Draco’s muffled voice call out, the sounds of feet thumping onto the marble floor and hushed voices coming from behind the closed door reaching his ears. The door opened after a few long (in his opinion) minutes, and Snape saw Draco standing there, out of breath with his hair and clothing all in disarray. He had a red mark on the side of his face, more than likely from the pillow he’d been sleeping on. “Professor?”

“I have to go, but you two should be safe here for a little longer, maybe only a few hours,” Snape said hastily, looking past Draco to see Harry sitting on the bed, looking as sleep-mussed as Draco was.

“Go where?” Draco asked, frowning at the thought of being left alone to fend for themselves.

Snape sighed, eyes falling shut and long fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “I have to Apparate around the country again, look for the next place for you two to stay. The Dark Lord is still searching for us and I need to keep moving so he doesn’t pick up our trail.”

Draco nodded at this, not really liking it, but agreeing nonetheless that it had to be done. Snape gave a curt nod at the blond and walked off down the hall, down the stairs and out the front door, since the old spells woven on the mansion prevented anyone from Apparating in or out of the area.

Draco closed the door once he saw Snape begin his descent down the stairs, and made his way back to the bed. The sight of Harry blinking sleepy eyes at Draco greeted him, Harry only having heard a bit of the conversation with their Potions master. “What’s the plan?” he asked, breaking out into a huge yawn before lying back down onto the bed.

“Snape has to go for a bit, but he said he’d return soon. How soon, I’m not sure, but after everything that’s happened so far, I don’t believe he’d just up and leave us,” Draco replied thoughtfully, lying down himself next to Harry.

Harry nodded, closing his eyes. He was just on the brink of going back to sleep when a sudden thought hit him and he sat bolt upright, or as fast as one could with a large stomach, which had gotten even bigger overnight. He reckoned he was now eight or nine months along. “Draco!” he frantically breathed.

Draco’s eyes snapped open, hand brandishing his wand before Harry had finished Draco’s name. “What? Someone here?” he asked, looking wildly around the room for the source of Harry’s panic.

“No. Draco, yesterday, when we shagged, we didn’t use anything!” Harry said, eyes wide, breathing picking up. What if Draco was pregnant now? What would they do? _Oh, God! I’m never shagging anyone ever again!_

Draco turned to stare at Harry, wanting to slap the dark-haired boy about the head for scaring the life out of him. After a moment, Draco lowered his wand and took in a breath before replying, “Harry, calm down. Remember when I told you about my first time with Blaise?” he said, waiting for Harry to nod that he had remembered. “After that incident, when I had thought I had been pregnant, but it had actually just been the flu, I began using the Contraceptive Charm every month. Before you, he had been the only one I let shag me, but things could change and situations could arise that would have me bottom or not to another bloke, so I regularly cast the spell on myself, whether or not I have sex.”

Harry sighed in relief, rubbing his belly to calm himself and the baby down, since it had been kicking due to his earlier agitation. He had been scared that he might have gotten Draco pregnant and right now, one was enough. Maybe a few years from now, if they stayed together or not, they might think of having another one, but now was way too early to even be thinking about that possibility. With an understanding nod at Draco, Harry lay back down, closing his eyes, as he grew tired again before drifting off into a light doze.

@>*~

Harry frowned in his sleep as he heard voices whispering fiercely around him. It took him a moment, but he finally opened his eyes when he felt the bed dip behind him, feeling the warmth of a body on his back. Turning his head, he saw Draco leaning over him, poised to wake him up. Draco sat back on his heels when he realized Harry was already awake and staring blankly at nothing in his sleep-induced fog. “Draco?” Harry inquired, wondering what was going on.

“Harry, get up, we have to go,” Draco informed, getting off the bed as Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes. Harry accepted his glasses from the blond boy when he offered them to him.

Harry sighed. _Another Apparation? Already?_ He really wasn’t looking forward to having to Apparate anywhere at the moment since he was half asleep, but he knew they’d have to make their way out of the abandoned mansion and past the gates for them to accomplish it. Harry looked over and saw Snape, arms crossed, blank look on his face, as they waited for Harry to get out of bed.

Once Harry got out of bed (with as much speed as his swollen belly would tolerate), put his shoes on (again, with difficulty), and used the toilet, they made their way out of the mansion and out to the grounds. Harry crinkled his brows together, wondering where they were headed this time. “Professor? Where are we going now?”

“Back to England. We’re going back to Malfoy Manor,” Draco said before an exasperated Snape could open his mouth.

Harry blinked his eyes owlishly and looked around Draco to Snape. “We’re going _where_?” he asked, piercing Snape with an incredulous look.

“Really, Potter; surely you're not _that_ thick," Snape said, sneering at Harry.

Harry felt faint for a moment, not sure why, really, since except for a few times back in third year when he’d fainted after the Dementors had been too much for him to handle, he’d never done so before. “Are you mad?” Harry all but yelled at both men standing beside him. Snape looked blankly at Harry, before he disappeared from the clearing. Evidently, Snape had gone completely off his rocker. _It was bound to happen sometime_ , Harry thought idly. “Draco? What the hell?”

“Harry, listen to me,” Draco said, his tone mildly placating and more than a little tetchy. He shook Harry’s shoulders lightly. “Snape reckoned it’d be the last place Voldemort would search, thinking we’d have to be completely mental to even attempt to go back to the first place we’d think my father would check.”

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but didn’t get a chance as Draco gave him a look and disappeared, leaving Harry by himself, once again, damn it. “I’m going to curse his arse into the next century!” He yelled out to no one in particular. Not only had both of them gone completely round the bend, but they were Apparating to Draco’s home, where Draco’s mum was most definitely waiting to Avada Kedavra him the second he set foot into her primly perfect pure-blooded palace. But they’d left him alone. Again. He muttered curses at his lover before closing his eyes, picturing the blond--who he wanted to throttle--and disappearing.

@>*~

Harry found himself beside Draco, Snape nowhere to be seen as usual. They figured he was off Apparating all over the continent once more, throwing the Death Eaters off their scent. Draco grimaced and held back from upchucking himself when Harry fell to his knees and threw up all over his boots. He sighed instead, pulled his wand out and banished the vomit off his boots. Finished with his bout of sickness, Harry stood back up with the help of Draco and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. “Sorry,” Harry mumbled; he hadn’t meant to aim at Draco, but he had gotten a little close to Harry before the Gryffindor had had a chance to turn.

Draco pulled Harry along closely as he walked over to the front gates of his home. He said a few words toward the gates, and stood back as the gates swung open. Harry guessed it had been a password of some type before he followed Draco up the front path. Draco stopped in front of the door, pulling his bag forward to rummage around inside for the key. They hadn’t used Locking Spells on the door in the last two years; it had only been him and his mum inside the manor.

Finding the key at last, Draco used it to unlock the door and open it, stepping inside and waiting for Harry to follow before turning to close and relock it. Harry looked around the huge foyer, eyes wide at the sight. He had never been inside the mansion before, since he and Draco had never been anything but rivals before they’d gotten together. Harry felt Draco grab his hand, quickly, but quietly, cutting his visual tour short to pull him down the main entrance, into the hallway and up the stairs to his room. There, he pushed Harry inside his room, rounding on him. “Wait here. Do not leave this room; I have to find my mother and talk to her,” Draco said to Harry, leaning forward to place a quick kiss on his lips before he turned and went back out into the hall, muttering spells to lock the door and keep Harry safe in case anything unpleasant happened while they were there.

Harry sighed as he was locked in. Shrugging his shoulders, he walked over to the huge four-poster bed and sat down on the mattress, waiting for Draco to return.

@>*~

Draco needed to find his mother; he knew she liked to read and he had already checked her personal library, but it had turned up empty when he searched it. He decided to check his father’s personal library, since with his father gone she had been interested in reading the darker books his father had kept there. He knew his mother wouldn’t use them for evil purposes, more for trying to find a countercurse to something Lucius had done around the house. Those little things tended to annoy her to great lengths, and all Draco could usually do was smile when she ranted about it.

Upon entering his father’s library, the last thing he had been expecting was to see his father, sitting in his chair, feet propped on the ottoman, skimming over a book. He really shouldn’t have been surprised to see his father there, really, since he supposed he had drastically underestimated the man. Draco halted, shocked to stillness, and forced his breathing to return to normal as he looked at his father, who obviously had heard him enter. Draco suddenly worried his father knew Harry was here in the manor as well and he feared that Harry and their child would be put into harm’s way.

“Draco,” Lucius said happily in greeting. Standing up from his chair, he made his way towards his motionless son, looking at him. A slightly distasteful look came to Lucius’ face, as if he couldn’t decide whether Draco was worth salvaging or not. “I may pretend I’ve not seen you here, boy, if you give the account that you stayed with Potter as far as you could before realigning your allegiance,” Lucius began, frowning thoughtfully at his only child. “He’s not stupid in any respect, and it would be believable that he would resist your trying to keep him where we would surely find you.”

Apparently, Draco had been worth salvaging to his father. Great. _Nice to know he cares_ , Draco thought. _But what can I do to keep him away from Harry?_ He puffed his chest back up to its old glory and his mouth dropped into a familiar scowl that had not been so familiar for the last few weeks. “I don’t care about him and his filthy child,” Draco said, attempting to get on his father’s good side, pretending to switch back to evil, or in fact, trying to make his father believe he had never faltered at all in his allegiance to the Dark Lord. He hoped he came over as convincing, but from the look on Lucius’ face, he had the awful feeling he hadn’t.

 _Child?_ Lucius thought questioningly to himself. _Potter’s with child? When did this happen and why wasn’t I informed of it beforehand?_ Lucius couldn’t believe what he’d heard. His son and the Potter boy were having a child together? Lucius didn’t know what to say or do; he didn’t want to be caught uninformed, so he kept his expression blank, kept himself from inquiring what the hell Draco was talking about. If it were true, what would happen? How would his family be viewed since they were known Death Eaters now thanks to his earlier incarceration at the hands of the Potter boy?

“You’re lying,” he growled instead. They stared at one another for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Lucius knew the boy wasn’t telling him the truth; Draco wouldn’t have come back home alone without his lover with him.

Draco merely crossed his arms with a scoff and sneered at his father. “So I am,” he admitted, steeling himself as he continued. “I’m trying to protect him and our child. I’m not handing Harry over to the Dark Lord and quite possibly never even getting the chance to know my own child; because you sure weren’t the greatest father in the world yourself.”

Lucius glared at his son, furious. So, he had heard correctly. “Your child?” He bellowed, making Draco jump at the unexpected tone. “Have you lost your bloody mind? Do you _know_ what the Dark Lord will do to you now?”

“There was never any guarantee I would make it out of his presence alive in the first place, Father,” he shouted back, their voices evenly matched. “You know that, and I know that. What would you have me do, Father: turn Harry over and go back to being a good little Death Eater son?” Before Draco had a chance to continue in this train of thought, Lucius backhanded his son, sending him sprawling to the floor, before turning and walking back to his chair, sitting down calmly, stewing in his fury.

Draco gasped at the slap, wiping a hand across his mouth and looking down to find a bit of blood there, his lip having been split at the impact. He gaped at his father from the floor; never before had his father slapped him across the face. Lucius closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked back to his son. "Do you not understand," he began lowly, voice ragged, hoarse, and desperate, "the impact this child will have on the Dark Lord? Potter is a half-blood; your child will be a half-blood. Did my teachings fall on deaf ears or are you just that stupid?” Lucius said, shaking his head in disappointment at his thickheaded son.

Draco had risen to his feet the moment Lucius had sat back down. “You’re worried about our pure-bloodedness?” Draco half-shouted in disbelief. He scoffed, shaking his head, brow furrowed. “Father, have you forgotten that you and I are _not_ completely pureblood? You do remember, don’t you, Father, that we have Veela in our blood also?”

Lucius chose to ignore the boy’s smug tone as he rested his arms on the armrests, slightly pulling up the sleeve on his left arm, exposing his wrist. Draco frowned at what he saw hanging off of his father’s exposed wrist. It was a silver bracelet with snakes entwined to make the chain links, a red gem in the center, the snake’s fangs reminiscent of the clips on rings holding fast to a precious stone. Draco always wondered why it would glow red when his father was angry, but now he’d caught on. “How did you know I was here?” he suddenly asked.

Lucius smirked, lifting his wrist in answer, holding the stone out for Draco to see. “It contains a droplet of your blood, and seeks the body from which it fell.”

Draco’s mouth pulled down into a frown at this bit of information. “So, you’ve known where I was this whole time?”

“Yes,” Lucius replied. He hadn’t known his son would actually be stupid enough to show up back at his own home, though. Seems the Dark Lord had been correct after all.

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “Then why didn’t you come after me yourself?”

“I wanted to know how it would turn out. I have my reasons,” Lucius said, leaning back in his chair, legs crossed at the ankle. Yes, Lucius had known, and he could have walked right up to Draco in Durmstrang at any time he deemed fit; he had just wanted to have his own shot at both of the boys, figure out what was really going on, before anyone else.

“So, now what?” Draco asked. _Stupid Dark Lord_ , he thought as he stared at his father, willing himself not to look scared.

Lucius inclined his head, smirk growing into a cruel smile. They both knew if he chose Harry, Lucius would seek him out, and potentially kill him, or hold him under a curse, so as not to ‘tarnish’ the Malfoy name by having a deviant for a son. His lips curled icily at the corners and Draco found himself fearful for the first time as he leaned forward, identical eyes piercing his own. “Make your choice, Draco.”

@>*~

They were sitting together on a bench, close to the Quidditch pitch, but far enough away to get some privacy to just be alone together. Hermione was leaning back on her hands as Ron sat sideways with one leg bent on the bench. There was a Quidditch game later that day: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.

It was a slow Saturday afternoon, and both Ron and Hermione were waiting until the game started. Ron was the Keeper and Captain of the Gryffindor team and he had time before he had to run to the changing rooms and get into his uniform for the big game. They didn’t talk much as they sat there, soaking up the little bit of sun that was shining above: most of it had been obscured by a few white clouds floating along lazily in the sky overhead.

After a while, they got up from the bench, Ron pulling Hermione to him and placing a heated kiss onto her lips; she moaned at the tongue that sought entrance into her mouth, opening wide to admit it and swirling her own around it in response. They pulled apart, a silent promise of things later to come, at night, when everyone was asleep and they could get together to finish what they’d started.

Hermione followed Ron to the Quidditch changing rooms, holding his hand as they walked. “You know, I was thinking of maybe being a professional Quidditch player; what do you reckon?” Ron asked, amusement in his eyes at Hermione’s alarmed look.

“Um…” Hermione said eloquently, blushing, as she couldn’t help but picture Ron trying to play Quidditch professionally. He wasn’t bad at Quidditch, but he wasn’t really the professional playing-type either. She hadn’t meant to laugh at the thought, but it came out without her wanting it to. “Oh, God, Ron, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said at the serious look on his face when he’d asked about being a player.

But Ron couldn’t help it; he leaned his head back and laughed until his sides hurt. She looked at him strangely until he said, “No, I’m just joking." He chuckled at Hermione’s relieved breath. He twined his fingers between hers and squeezed, giving her questioning look a pensive, lopsided grin. “Actually, I was thinking about something in the Ministry…” Hermione sighed. Now, _this_ was a conversation she was more equipped to deal with.

@>*~

“You know my choice, Father,” Draco firmly stated, if not a little quieter than he had meant it to be.

Lucius looked at Draco, face completely blank, a stoic, time-crafted, Malfoy mask. “Get out of my sight,” he demanded in a low voice, sending a shiver of fear through Draco’s body. He knew his father wouldn’t give him long, but he’d use the time he was given. He wasn’t going to throw it in his father’s face, no matter how bad he wanted to. Draco supposed he’d already won; he had made the right choice, and now he had to live with it. He suddenly remembered something and he quickly Apparated himself to his mother’s parlor.

Draco looked around the room, searching, until his eyes landed on the family clock. The clock looked like any other type of clock, except this one showed the person viewing it where a member of the family it was spelled to show was. It had a frosted glass faceplate, slices of sharp, silver daggers with elegant black script depicting the names of the family members who owned it on their blades. In place of numbers, which ranged all around the clock, there were various places and states of wellbeing: 1-mortal danger, 2-grounds (as in the grounds of the manor), 3-home (it had a slip which told which floor of the manor said person was on), 4-Hogwarts, 5-Ministry of Magic, 6-Diagon Alley, 7-work, 8-London, 9-Summoned, 10-asleep, 11-out of the country, and 12-dead.

Draco looked at it, swallowing almost involuntarily when he saw his own blade hovering between one and twelve, and he felt a detached part of his mind want to shrug and say ‘oh well’, as opposed to the other part that was panicking beyond belief, along with that part that wondered why his ears were ringing. If anyone had seen him at that moment, they’d think he was fine, simply looking for the time; he’d never shown his feelings. He _was_ a Malfoy after all. But he had shown Harry though, and maybe that was the price of being a Malfoy. If it was, he didn’t think he wanted to pay it much longer.

He looked at his father’s dagger, which was actually pointing at two different points, completely opposite each other. The center rivet that held the hilts of the daggers had pulled Lucius’ blade through, the metal bent and twisted where it had torn the hole larger. It pointed at _home_ as well as _summoned_. Lucius had more than likely gotten his feelings about his home life mixed up in his work.

Suddenly, a chime rang again from inside the clock, and Draco realized that’s what had made the ringing noise before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt cold suddenly and spun around, prepared to see his father standing there, saying “time’s up” before plunging a knife through his heart. He knew he was being dramatic, and he sighed heavily before he wrapped his arms around his mother, who shushed him, petting his hair. Draco was a few inches taller than her, but not by much; he hung his head over her shoulder, holding her tightly before pulling back. “Mother, you’ve got to help me.”

“Calm down, Draco. What is it?” she asked, gripping his arms lightly, a frown marring her lovely face.

“I’ve changed sides. Harry Potter is in my bedroom, and father, whether by the Dark Lord’s orders or his own sick disappointment in me, is trying to kill me,” he explained quickly, barely keeping himself from crying into her shoulder. He wasn’t usually so emotional, but everything just seemed to be crashing around his head suddenly.

Narcissa’s lips went slack as she stared at her son. She was planning on asking him why he was out of school, for the full story, but she knew that didn’t matter at all to any of them right now, nor did they have the time. She had nodded at him, like she’d known all along already; though as soon as Draco finished speaking, she said, “Quickly, take him back to Hogwarts; meet Snape at the town square in Hogsmeade. I’ll contact you.” Draco nodded, hugged his mother one last time, took a steadying breath and headed off to go get Harry.

@>*~

Lucius was leaning back in his chair, feet propped up once more on the ottoman, fingers steepled and under his chin. He knew his son had left the manor with Potter tagging along. The bracelet he wore wasn’t glowing as brightly as it had when Draco had been nearby. It began vibrating slightly, off and on, since he’d left, forewarning. Though the bracelet sought the owner of the blood within its gem, it wasn’t able to tell Lucius exactly where his son was located at the moment.

As he pondered on his next course of action, he suddenly felt a presence in the room with him. He looked up to find his wife briskly walking into his personal library, beautiful face creased in disquiet. "Narcissa, my dear," he began, smooth voice giving way to brimming fury, staring blankly at his wife.

She startled, her graceful glide faltering. "Lucius," she replied, feigning innocence at the piercing stare directed at her. She smiled, a wan smile. _Very weak_ , he thought. "What a delightful surprise. I did not feel the wards shift for your entry."

"I haven't been here long," he said blithely, eyes narrowing. “What brings you to my library?”

Narcissa walked over to the bookcase beside the fireplace, pale fingers selecting a book at random. “I came for a book, Lucius,” she replied with a faint smile, eyes under the pretense of scanning the pages within.

“Narcissa, my dear,” he began, becoming angry, “don’t lie to me. Our son was just here and I know he went to see you. Tell me where he has gone, dearest,” he demanded, getting up from the chair to stand in front of her, intimidating.

“I don’t know where he went,” she lied unsuccessfully, backing away slightly from her husband.

Lucius sighed to himself. If he didn’t love her so… “Narcissa,” he began lowly, “you can’t protect him any longer. The Dark Lord knows he’s with Potter. Maybe we might be able to spare his life, but I must know where he’s gone. Back to Hogwarts, perhaps? What did he tell you, dear?” he demanded.

Narcissa frowned; she couldn't tell her husband anything. Draco was her son and she had to protect him, no matter what. She wiped her face of every trace of a frown and regarded her husband with a cool, indifferent mask, a Malfoy mask. For Draco. “I told you, I don’t know anything.”

“You have to stop this!” Lucius suddenly cried, causing her to flinch. “I need to know where ... he ...” Lucius trailed off, distracted by something or other. Narcissa wasn’t sure what, though, but Lucius suddenly grabbed his arm, hissing in pain at the insistent burning sensation. "I have to go," he idly informed her as he headed towards the door to his library, down the hall and outside onto the grounds. It seemed the Dark Lord was not pleased with him at the moment, diverging from their primary objective for his own personal reasons.

As soon as Lucius left, Narcissa ran to the desk near the window swiftly, grabbing a piece of parchment and a quill and began quickly penning a letter. The quill waved frantically as she wrote, nearly tearing the paper with its tip in her haste.

@>*~

They appeared in the town square of Hogsmeade, Draco having to hold a pained Harry upright as he had almost collapsed when they’d landed. Draco's eyes darted everywhere, trying to find Snape in the busy square.

Meanwhile, Snape heard the distinct sound of someone Apparating nearby and turned, sighing to himself in relief at the sight of the two boys, who hadn’t seen him yet. He walked through the crowd of witches and wizards, stopping once he made it to the pair.

“Follow me,” Snape whispered quickly, leading the way to the Three Broomsticks, trying not to attract too much attention. He had spotted Death Eaters trying to be discreet as they searched the crowd, no doubt looking for the three of them.

Snape, Harry, and Draco walked through the plaza as inconspicuously as possible, pretending to blend in with the bustling townsfolk. _Apparently, the Dark Lord trained his followers much better in recent years than I had thought_ , Snape mused to himself, watching as the Death Eaters hid themselves from view, mingling in. The only way Severus had known they were there with them was because he himself had been actively searching for them in the crowd.

The Three Broomsticks was alive with jaunty music; barmaids were swinging their trays between tables, and Rosmerta was chatting up a wizard by the bar. Once he ushered the boys inside, Snape turned to his two charges. “Death Eaters are here, in town. As soon as we find a secluded corner of this building, Apparate as quickly as you can, just outside the gates to Hogwarts,” he explained hurriedly, walking off and weaving his way through tables and chairs once the boys nodded in understanding.

They walked quickly, ignoring anyone and everyone as they went, stopping once they reached a corner table, obscured by the other loud patrons in the pub; they Disapparated from the Three Broomsticks as soon as they spotted the Death Eaters entering the building, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

The three Death Eaters, who had entered the tavern after seeing Snape slink in, made their way quickly to the table but Snape had already disappeared before they could catch him and his companions. Thwarted, they disappeared also, startling a few pub patrons as they had been scattered throughout. Fortunately for them, they had an idea of where Snape was headed and went to follow.

@>*~

The grounds of Hogwarts were deserted, not a single student or teacher roaming about. Hermione stood, somewhat bored, waiting outside of the Gryffindor changing room for Ron to come out; she had wanted to give him a quick kiss for good luck. She knew he’d do fine out on the pitch, but he always had a hard time believing it to be true. After a while, the Gryffindor team began to emerge. Ron was the last to exit, broom in hand, looking quite dashing in his uniform.

“Ron,” Hermione called, getting the redhead’s attention.

Ron looked to the side to see Hermione waiting for him, smiling sweetly. “Hiya, Hermione,” he said, grinning from ear to ear at her. “Come to see me off?”

Hermione smiled coyly at him, nodding her head in answer. She made her way to him, standing on her toes to place a brief kiss to his cheek. “Good luck,” she whispered, grinning at the creeping blush that spread over his face.

“Thanks, I’ll need it,” he replied gently, demurely, straightening up, a determined look on his face. With Hufflepuff’s Seeker, Laura Madley, Gryffindor was hard-pressed to win. He only hoped Dennis Creevey would be able to catch the Snitch before she did.

The Gryffindor team walked out onto the pitch amongst claps, cheers, and boos. Ron was brimming with nerves, yet excited. The atmosphere on the pitch was promising; there were only a few clouds in the sky, and no chance for rain or snow to fall and make it a more difficult than usual game. Students waved banners of their own making, showing support for either team.

Ron and his teammates made their way to the center of the pitch where Madam Hooch was standing by, waiting to start the game. In the background, Ron could hear Colin Creevey commenting via the Sonorus Charm. “Welcome to today’s Quidditch match: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff!” Cheers broke out in the stands at this announcement, and the student stands were bathed in seas of yellow and black and red and gold. “Filling in, once again, for Harry Potter is my brother, Dennis Creevey!” Colin shouted, making a few people nearby him rub their ears more at the screech in his tone than the screech of the feedback. “He won the last game,” he continued breathlessly, “an awesome player if I do say so myself.” He was interrupted by Professor McGonagall giving him a stern look. “Er, anyway, Madam Hooch has released the balls, she’s stopped climbing in the air to talk, no lecturing them… She’s released the Quaffle! And we’re off!”

At this time, Dumbledore was seated in one of the teachers’ booths, barely paying any attention to the game being played. He was worried, he couldn’t explain why, but he just had a bad feeling something was afoot. He couldn’t say where this feeling of dread was coming from, but it unsettled him greatly. He refrained from looking over his shoulder, not wanting to worry anyone, his eyes having lost their usual twinkle, his brows furrowed as he worried about what might happen.

McGonagall noticed Albus’ distracted state; she couldn’t help but notice. He seemed distant, preoccupied, apprehensive, as if someone were about to attack him from behind or some other such nonsense. He wasn’t smiling as he usually did when Gryffindor played. _I hope everything’s all right_ , she thought quietly. _There’s nothing Albus can do now_. She wasn’t sure if he was simply staying out of everything that had happened so far, or if he truly had no secret upper hand in this part of the game. And it was a game, after all. All she could do, all any of them could do, was simply wait and see what would eventually transpire.

@>*~

Snape had not fooled anyone with his constant Apparating, least of all the Dark Lord. The time he had spent in Hogsmeade gave Voldemort the heads up. Once Snape left Hogsmeade, Voldemort had known what his next stop would be. The Dark Lord quickly left the Dark school and loped down the lawns, and out to the gates, disappearing the moment he was on the other side of them. Finally, he would finish this, once and for all.

@>*~

They reappeared just outside the gates to Hogwarts; Snape moved quickly to unlock them with a spell known by all teachers for emergencies. Harry was thankful he hadn’t thrown up the moment he appeared, following his Potions master as fast as he could, Draco close behind him.

They were trotting up the beaten path when Harry suddenly doubled over in pain, hissing as he palmed his forehead, veering off to the side; he knew Voldemort had arrived, was here, on their heels, behind them. Draco was pulled back at Harry’s sudden stop. _Shit_ , Draco thought (knowing that look on Harry's face, he didn't have to turn around to know the Dark Lord was nearby), practically dragging Harry until he stood up on his own, nodding and running behind Draco again. Voldemort appeared seconds after, watching as Snape and the two boys ran to the gates. “Severus, you will not escape me!” Voldemort bellowed, causing Harry to stumble in his step. They were too late! They weren’t going to make it!

Voldemort let out a chilling scream at seeing Snape finally getting the gate to open, shoving the boys through. He tossed spell after spell at the two boys, green light zipping close to their heads as the Killing Curse missed its mark, his spells striking the bars, causing them to ring loudly in protest, and singeing their hair, way too close for comfort. Voldemort lowered his wand, running after the three of them as the gates started to shut. He made it to the gates just as Severus was closing them. Voldemort grabbed hold of the golden bars, using his physical strength to try to push them open.

Snape, on the other side, slammed his body forcefully against the bars, using all his might to keep them shut, neither thinking to just use magic instead. “Draco,” Snape grunted as he kept pushing at the gates, legs locked, and boots digging into the dirt. “Take Potter up to the castle… _hurry_!”

Draco frantically nodded, grasping Harry’s arm and dragging him behind him as he ran as fast as he could towards the school. Harry was panting with the effort, with each step they took, feeling sick to his stomach at the speed they were moving, the weight in his belly making it difficult as he ran.

Voldemort yelled out with a roar of strength as he finally pushed open the gates, knocking Snape aside. Snape recovered quickly, turning and running up the path to the school, hurling any spell, curse, or hex he could think of over his shoulder.

Draco and Harry continued up the path swiftly, leaving Snape casting spells behind them, defending the two of them as they kept running. Voldemort sent curse after curse at the three of them, having to dodge the spells his ex-Death Eater was lobbing towards him. Voldemort saw spells other than his own flying past, aimed at Snape and the two boys, his Death Eaters contributing to the effort. A few broke off as they heard noise coming from the pitch (no doubt a Quidditch match in progress), figuring no one would be left in the castle.

@>*~

The few Death Eaters not chasing down Snape and the boys with Voldemort made their way toward the roaring noise of the Quidditch pitch. A few of them paused to watch the game, while the others moved further in. They spread out, each one headed for the booths holding the teachers and parents.

There were murmurings from the Slytherin students as a few of them watched the men in the dark robes and masks move stealthily through the crowded stands. The students that witnessed the Death Eaters hurriedly got out of their way; a few of them wondered if the men moving past them were their fathers.

The Death Eaters climbed the stairs to the teachers’ booths, some having only one Death Eater, while some had two. A spell came hurling overheard, missing its target, bouncing off the side of the wall, making the teachers and parents whirl around, wondering what had caused it.

One Death Eater made it to the top, throwing out curses randomly at the teachers present. The teachers seated on the benches turned almost as one as they heard and saw the blasts from the spells that missed them, splintering wood everywhere, feeling the air move above their heads; some spells sizzling past the players who got too close. A few of the more delicate and panicked vulnerable began yelling or screaming, wildly making their way to the exits as wood and steel exploded all around them.

“What a brilliant save by Weasley!” Colin obliviously shouted out, eliciting cheers from those still watching the game. He wasn’t sure why he did it, and years from then when he was asked, he’d tell them it was a chance look across the pitch. “And Laura Madley suddenly dives, did she see the-- _Death Eaters_!” he yelled suddenly, making every single person on the field, except for a few players who were in the middle of a dive or pass, look around. They knew Colin would never say something like that only to take the piss.

Instantaneously, mass panic erupted a mere few moments after Colin's startled howl, students rushing the stairs in a frenzy, pushing, shoving, even kicking each other in their haste to save themselves. Dumbledore sprang up from his seat, wand out, spells fired with swiftness and accuracy at a few of Voldemort's followers converging in his own booth. The Death Eaters went down, one by one, from Dumbledore’s and a few seconds after, McGonagall’s, Stunning Spells, but not before a stray green light hit Professor Sprout in the chest, sending her flying against the wall of the booth, eyes open, staring at nothing, body motionless.

McGonagall had a dismayed look about her, but there would be time to grieve later; right now they had to get everyone to safety. “Minerva, stay here and make sure the students get to the castle,” Dumbledore ordered. “Remus, you’re with me; I have a feeling Harry and the others will need our help.”

Remus nodded, following Dumbledore down the stairs and out onto the grounds at the mere mention of Harry, breathing heavily as he ran alongside Dumbledore.

@>*~

Snape was barely paying attention to where he was going, more worried about keeping himself from getting hit with one of Voldemort’s curses: his wand up, spells streaming like a quick breath from his lips, sweat pouring down his face, robes sticking to him, determination and a hint of fear in his eyes. So preoccupied as he was, he didn’t see Dumbledore or Lupin until he almost ran into them.

Dumbledore sped quickly towards Snape and Voldemort, also helping to protect the two boys, who were running farther and farther away. The Dark Lord saw Albus, growling, red eyes bursting with fury as he threw nasty curses at the older wizard. Dumbledore blocked most of the spells aimed at him; the others whistled by his head, singeing his sky blue robes as they passed, ones not aimed for his head. He hadn’t thought Tom would be foolish enough to come right onto the grounds, but if Tom thought Harry was as good as in his clutches, Albus was going to forge ahead until Tom was proved wrong.

@>*~

McGonagall had rounded up the teachers and prefects with her usual calm and quiet firmness, but one look at her eyes and you knew she was serious, desperately trying to get the screaming and terrified students, running amok, into some semblance of order and back into the castle where they’d be able to defend it better than out in the open.

It was hard going trying to get the students to safety in such bedlam; prefects were yelling out orders, dragging the fallen up, gathering up the younger students who were bawling or bleeding, getting them to the safety of the school. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were close enough to the castle, spells whirring overhead, crashing into students and the castle’s exterior, raw insanity and delight on their faces could be seen.

Many of the students had stopped, staring at the horrendous scene unfolding around them in sickening fascination, unable to believe what they were seeing, too scared to move unless shoved into action… unaware of Bellatrix Lestrange skulking behind them until a student was struck with a violent red curse, causing students to scatter in all directions.

Bellatrix painted quite a frightening picture: gaunt face in maniacal glee, hair whipping about her face, laughing and screeching in sheer enjoyment, wand flying around spitting out curses, hitting one poor second year with the Cruciatus Curse. “Filthy-blooded creature, tainted by Hogwarts--Mudblood scum,” Bellatrix whispered lividly, moving closer to the second year before Hermione, racing by as she steered students into the school, turned around and broke the curse, herding the sobbing child towards the school. Hissing at the prefect and hurling Dark curses at the Muggle-born, Bellatrix scowled and began stalking for her next set of victims.

In the meantime, stumbling, Voldemort whipped his wand about, hitting Snape with a Stunning Spell, sending Snape staggering, falling, crashing like a great hero finally succumbing to defeat. Voldemort howled in triumph at finally getting the upper hand on Snape, stunning him. He took a step forward, intent on finishing off the traitor, when he looked up and saw Harry suddenly standing still, wand in hand.

Harry had stopped, turning around as he heard Snape fall to the ground and Voldemort yelling victoriously. Harry scowled as he pulled his wand out from within his robes, watching detachedly as Voldemort looked up at him, smirked, and advanced.

Dumbledore turned towards Harry when he heard shouting. The teachers who weren’t herding the students to the castle were fighting the Death Eaters, pushing them back towards the gates, away from their castle. The Headmaster’s eyes widened very slightly, face blank, as he took in the sight of Harry and his rather large stomach.

Draco had felt Harry stop, and dug his feet into the ground, nearly tearing Harry’s arm off as he kept going and abruptly stopped, watching Harry in horror. “Harry--the hell--let’s go!” He shouted to the dark-haired boy, but Harry ignored him, walking slowly, almost predatorily towards the Dark Lord. Draco could do nothing but stare, mouth open slightly, a frown on his face as he saw his very pregnant lover squaring off with the Dark Lord.

Remus, by this time had reached the prone Potions master, ran over to Severus once the Dark Lord turned his attention on Harry. Remus knelt down, placing Severus’ head in his lap, fingers carding through greasy hair, hoping he really had only been stunned and nothing more fatal. He looked up from his seat on the cold, hard, dirt ground, watching in terrible awe at Voldemort’s stalk towards Harry.

Harry moved slowly and awkwardly toward the Dark Lord, keeping an eye on his wand. As they got closer to one another, the tips of their wands began emitting sparks, crackling wildly with color. Voldemort paused, first looking over to Dumbledore (who had frowned slightly at the sparks flying), than over to Harry, who kept advancing closer and closer to Voldemort, barely paying any heed to his wand. Voldemort froze and warily drew back, looking down at their wands, which were now hissing and spitting more sparks the closer Harry came near.

The Dark Lord took another step back; he knew with the wands, in such a tense situation, and both of their masters excruciatingly angry, something would go wrong. Dumbledore knew this as well, and Voldemort did, too, but Harry, blinded by his anger and hatred at everything Voldemort had done to him and his family, continued to move forward.

It was at this time Voldemort realized now was not the time, and though it greatly wounded his pride, quickly moved backwards towards the gates, keeping his glittering crimson eyes firmly on Harry. As soon as Voldemort made his way finally off the grounds, he gave Harry and Dumbledore one last, menacing look that wordlessly conveyed, ‘This is far from over; rest assured, I will return’, and Apparated away. His Death Eaters, most of which had been driven back outside the gates, off the grounds, disappeared, retreating from the battle to regroup with their master.

Harry stood there for a moment, panting, hand still gripping his wand, before his eyes rolled into the back of his head, pitching forward, body slumping just the right way so he landed on his side and not his stomach.

“Harry!” Draco shouted, sprinting down the path towards his lover. Harry’s wand was lying in his slack fingers, but Draco was grateful to discover he was breathing normally. He looked to be sleeping, as if he decided to take a nice long nap on the dirt floor.

A few students emerged from the castle, milling about: the ones not hiding in fear for their lives. Ron and Hermione, who had been part of the group trying to usher the younger years into the school, walked slowly over to their passed-out friend. They were still pumped full of adrenalin, so all they did was stand close and watch tensely as Draco brushed Harry’s hair from his forehead and rubbed his quite large belly.

“Harry?” Draco whispered quietly, gently, down at the boy. “Are you okay?” He kept rubbing Harry’s stomach, feeling the baby inside him kicking frantically; Draco’s eyes widened in wonder at the movement of their child as he checked the boy beneath him for any visible injuries. By this time Blaise and Neville had broken through the inquisitive throng and joined Harry’s friends and various onlookers in the wide circle surrounding Harry and Draco. A few students gasped and began muttering excitedly amongst each other when Harry’s head lolled towards Draco’s chest and the blond boy bent down and placed a quick kiss to Harry’s slightly sweaty forehead, cheek against it, eyes wide and pale as a ghost.

The circle of onlookers and friends parted to allow some teachers through, one in particular carrying a very groggy, but awake, Severus Snape over to them. Snape looked first down at Harry, still unconscious but fine nonetheless, then over to Draco. The blond didn’t say anything, just nodded at his Potions master, thinking, _The baby’s fine, Harry’s just unconscious_.

Dumbledore then stood in the middle of the broken and war-damaged onlookers, watching how Draco held Harry tenderly, rubbed his belly, and asked him if he were all right. He knew Draco had known they had gathered a crowd, but hadn’t seemed to give a damn, too worried about Harry. Grimly, the Headmaster moved forward after a few minutes, placing a firm hand on quiet Draco’s shoulder, breaking the moment, intruding, pulling him back as he pulled out his wand.

@>*~

Dumbledore had levitated Harry up to the school and directly to the hospital wing. Students had followed them all through the halls, whispering to each other as their Headmaster passed by them on his way to the west wing. The students couldn’t follow their Headmaster into the hospital wing, not allowed inside while Madam Pomfrey had a say, and cleared the way to a bed.

Meanwhile, Snape was settled on another bed, across the way, forgotten for the moment as Harry was placed onto another bed. Draco followed the Headmaster, moving out of the way while he placed Harry down. He immediately moved to Harry’s side, seizing his hand as he waited for the dark-haired boy to wake up. Pomfrey had struggled to check Draco over, much to the occupied blond's chagrin, and was deemed healthy and unharmed, as he had left the battle relatively unscathed.

“Those who are not needed here, please leave; I can’t work with you all hovering about!” Pomfrey declared, indicating a few students and some teachers who had wandered into the hospital wing trying to see what was going on.

Blaise and Neville turned to head back out when Draco spoke up, “Can Blaise and Longbottom stay?” Pomfrey sighed wearily and nodded, not bothering to argue, with such a staid look on the blond’s face, turning back to check over Harry. She nodded firmly to herself that everything was okay at the moment; he was just out cold.

Blaise nodded his thanks at Draco, ushering Neville towards the bed. Neville paused a moment, not sure if he was wanted there at the moment and frankly, Malfoy scared him a bit at times, but he nervously followed Blaise and stood quietly as Pomfrey examined Harry. He couldn’t help noticing Harry’s large stomach; he had either gained quite a bit of weight while they had been gone, or he was… Neville blinked owlishly and looked at Draco, whose sole focus was on Harry, rubbing his belly, murmuring words to the prone boy. Neville shook his head, muttering quietly to himself. Now wasn’t the time to ask stupid questions.

Lupin sat at Snape’s bedside, looking down at him with worry. Severus was sweating a bit and looked pale, and Remus hoped that Voldemort hadn’t done anything awful to the Potions master. Snape’s head was resting back on the pillows, eyes closed, steadfastly ignoring Lupin. He wondered how the hell he had gotten out of that alive, escaping from the Dark Lord with just a stun.

Dumbledore and McGonagall were standing off to the side, having stayed when Pomfrey had shooed everyone else out. They were watching the interaction between Harry and Draco and Severus and Remus, both lost in thought, in mild wonder, at the display.

The doors suddenly burst open, interrupting the quiet of the hospital wing. Ron and Hermione came running in, faces grim masks of determination, after they heard Harry had been brought there. They hadn’t been able to get to the front of the crowd back on the grounds. Ron and his team had been playing Quidditch when the battle had started and he had to get them all to the ground in the commotion, and then as a prefect, he had to help shepherd the other students towards the castle.

Still in his wrinkled Quidditch robes, he went running to where he saw Dumbledore and the others huddled around a bed, rudely pushing his way past Dumbledore and McGonagall, at the moment not caring if they deducted points or not, and stopped upon seeing Malfoy sitting next to Harry, holding his hand. He glared at Malfoy before stopping next to Neville, wondering what on earth he was doing there, when he looked around and saw Zabini standing across the bed from him, next to Malfoy. He heard voices coming from nearby and turned to see Lupin talking softly to Snape. He raised an eyebrow at the sight, but chose to ignore it for the time being, more worried about Harry.

Hermione came in right after Ron, apologizing to everyone as she jostled past, catching up with Ron. She stopped at Ron’s side, looking around to see what was happening. “Harry!” she whispered, hands flying to her mouth, tears on the verge of falling from her eyes as she looked down at her best friend lying unconscious on the bed, praying he was okay.

Before anyone could speak, Harry opened his eyes, blinking as he found himself in hospital, surrounded by his friends. It warmed him, if only for a moment, realizing he was home. “Er,” he said, looking around. He noticed Draco look right at him as soon as he spoke, but the blond boy kept himself from jumping up and hugging him or something else unusual. Harry felt Draco squeeze his hand though, giving him a look.

“Harry!” Hermione cried, rushing to give him a hug, tears spilling on their own accord. Harry petted Hermione’s back awkwardly, looking over her shoulder at Ron.

Ron shrugged. “We thought you’d been badly hurt, mate,” he said.

“Ahem,” Dumbledore cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention, because he was obviously about to say something of importance. “Now that everyone is here, I think we should take a moment to address Madam Pomfrey and inquire as to how everyone is doing,” he said, nodding to Madam Pomfrey.

“All three of them are all right. Professor Snape will take longer to recover than Mr. Potter, but that’s to be expected; though Mr. Potter might actually have to stay in bed for longer, to recuperate the loss of his energy, so as not to come to any danger to himself or his progeny,” she explained, abruptly turning and heading back over to Snape.

Ron opened his mouth to yell, wanting to know why Draco wasn’t hurt and just what all had happened since he hadn’t had a chance in all the chaos, when he was interrupted by Professor McGonagall. “Do you really think it was wise to run off on an adventure in your condition?” McGonagall asked, addressing Harry, who had startled at the sudden attention on him. “We’ve cancelled all of your training; Merlin knows it would be hazardous to the child, especially in the state you’re in now.”

“Okay, wait a tick,” Ron finally said, clearly very angry about being left out of the loop. “I’m not sure what progeny even means, but I understand the word ‘child’. What the bloody hell is going on?” he asked, looking first at Hermione and then Harry, like they’d been keeping something from him.

Harry sighed, annoyed, rolled his eyes, and moved up higher in the bed. It was now or never. “Oh, you had to bloody well tell them, didn’t you?” he mumbled from the bed as he clumsily tried to sit up. McGonagall had the dignity to look a bit shameful for having revealed what she had, reflecting that she probably shouldn’t have.

It took Ron a moment, but he finally cottoned on to what they were talking about and he looked over to Draco, glaring murderously at the blond boy, fists clenched menacingly, as if everything that had transpired in the last fortnight or so had been clearly all his fault. Draco was nervous, clearly, but tried not to show it too openly. No one had known about their relationship except for Snape, and apparently, Blaise and Longbottom had found out, and of course, Weasley and Granger, nosy as they were, had also found out.

No one had known about their baby either, except for Snape, somehow. He assumed Dumbledore had found out on his own, although Draco had no idea how he had done so, especially since Harry had never said anything about talking to the Headmaster about it. The blond chanced a look over at Hermione, who had the slightest of smiles on her face. Seemed she’d figured it out too, although she more than likely never told anyone, since Weasley had been clueless about it. _No surprise there_ , he scornfully thought.

@>*~


	13. Chapter 13

“Harry, you’re pregnant! I knew it!” Hermione gushed happily, her eyes bright with happy tears. She was happy for Harry, and it was obvious to her who the father was. She had come to accept the idea of Malfoy and Harry together. The more she had thought about it over the weeks they had been gone, the more she’d come to understand how well they fit together. Mainly, how much they might need each other; what they may be able to give each other.

Ron, on the other hand, didn’t completely share her views. He had accepted his friend’s relationship, yes, but that didn’t mean he agreed with it. There was too much animosity built between the Weasleys and Malfoys for him to ever think Malfoy was anything less than a dirty, rotten, Muggle-hating, frilly-haired scum sucker. And he would make quite sure any and everyone could quote him on that.

 _Oh… bugger_ , Ron conceded, knowing that no one in the room would agree with him. So he simply sighed, gave Harry a wan smile, and sneered at Malfoy, taking a moment to actually just look at the blond, judging him. A few lines in his forehead eased, but only a bit. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t so bad, but he’d have to see about that.

Without another word, Ron turned and left the room, knowing that people needed time, and he needed time himself to cool off. He was extremely happy to have his friend back and alive, but everything he’d just found out (Harry and Malfoy having a baby, no less) was way too much for him at the moment, and he really didn’t feel like getting into any fights or arguments. Especially as delicate as Harry was now: pregnant. Merlin… he was having a baby… Malfoy’s baby! Ron shook his head to himself, crossed the threshold and was out of sight.

Harry frowned at Ron's sudden departure, looking at Hermione questioningly. She sighed, her smile waning just a little bit, and she lowered her eyes just a fraction to toy with a loose string on his blanket. "He'll come around eventually, Harry," she said softly to his fretful expression, her attempt at a bright smile faltering. “Just give him time.” She leaned forward, placing a kiss on Harry’s cheek.

Hermione straightened and looked at Malfoy, who scowled at her, still giving him a bright smile. He hesitated, giving her a blank look at the beam before lifting the corner of his mouth to smile back, though it looked more like a grimace than a true smile. She giggled inwardly at his poor attempt (but at least he’d made an effort), turning to go after Ron.

Harry was upset that Ron walked off, but he knew his friend. He was just rankled by the news Harry was not only shagging Malfoy (who had been a pain in their arses for the last six years), but had also gotten pregnant with Malfoy’s child. If it had been Ron who this weird situation had happened to instead of him, he’d have been confused and not a little angry, too.

“All right, now!” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed suddenly, brashly breaking the silence, startling Harry. “Out! Shoo! I’ve got patients who need private attention!” She waved her hands towards the visitors, herding Blaise and Neville out (Blaise glaring at the mediwitch while Neville looked a little scared) along with Dumbledore and McGonagall. Pomfrey didn’t even bother trying to make Draco leave when he gave her a look that said, “I know Dark hexes that would make Grindelwald flinch. Don’t tempt me."

She moved to where a pensive Lupin was seated, but as she came in sight, he said firmly and flatly without looking up at her, “I’m staying.” The mediwitch frowned at this, but let it slide. She didn’t have the time to argue, certainly not with werewolves, Death Eaters and menacing fathers-to-be.

Remus squeezed Severus’ hand in comfort as he began having odd convulsions. Severus was awake and grunted as his body shook a little, giving Lupin a sidelong glance as his hand tightened ever so slightly around his. He wasn’t sure why Lupin was staying, by his side no less, but he privately appreciated the company; though it’d be a cold day in Hell before he let the werewolf know that.

Harry, who’d been watching the exchange between his professors with mild interest, winced in sympathy for the man who just helped save his and his child’s life. His ‘family’s’ life? Was Draco a part of his family now? He wasn’t sure; he didn’t know how he really felt about Draco, even after getting to know him and carrying his child. It was all just so… _bizarre_. Harry broke from his preoccupied thoughts as he felt Draco move to sit beside him on his bed, slipping an arm around Harry’s waist to hold them both up on the bed. Harry swallowed, offering the blond a feeble grin.

 _Definitely bizarre_.

@>*~

Lupin kept watch over Snape, thanking heaven that it was a Saturday, so he wouldn’t have to leave Severus to go teach classes. He leaned forward, pulling up the sleeve of Severus’ robes, keeping back--just barely--a curse as he saw the Dark Mark there almost bubbling and burning the skin around it red.

Seemed the Dark Lord was punishing Snape via the mark, and it was working, as Severus grunted out in pain once again. Remus, sympathy scrawled across his face, looked up as Pomfrey briskly came back over to them, carrying a bottle of some type of red liquid.

Harry and Draco, who were across from Snape, continued watching their professors with rapt attention. When Pomfrey had stopped next to Snape, Lupin saw the red liquid, which looked like blood and most likely was, as she smeared some onto the Dark Mark (which felt cold and made Snape scowl at the mediwitch). Whatever it was supposed to do, it seemed to be working as it stopped the Dark Mark’s bubbling and Snape looked to be breathing better. Lupin sighed, relieved.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey walked off again, Remus pulled out his wand and pointed it at the Mark, muttering a spell that the two boys watching couldn’t hear. Some of the red blisters began to fade, easing innocently back into his pale skin, only to flare up again right away, making Snape cry out in pain, uncaring of all who had heard him.

Remus sighed, putting his wand away. He gently placed his hand onto Snape’s forehead, smoothing the hair away, trying to soothe him. Severus immediately slitted his eyes open, looking at Remus, glaring, even though a bit of thankfulness showed through also. After a moment, Severus closed his eyes once more and grimaced in obvious pain. He kept trying to calm his breathing, biting his lips so hard they bled, or maybe to think of something else, but neither was working very well. He was resigned to have quite a fitful rest tonight.

The two boys saw Lupin whisper something to Snape, too low for either of them to hear, before getting up from his seat and making his way out of the hospital. He glanced at Harry and Draco briefly, a sad look on his face, as he walked past them.

Remus knew he was a dark creature, even if he wasn’t out slaying people left and right. Because he was a dark creature, it wasn’t really helping for him to be so close to Severus while trying to fight another dark aspect of dark magic, but he had done all he could, which wasn’t much. He sighed; he felt useless. Utterly useless.

Lips pursed and mood considerably darkened, he made his way as quickly as he could through the school to his office. He needed to look for a way to take the Mark off, because until the Dark Lord got bored with hurting Severus--which could be a very long time—odds were, he wouldn’t stop. So he needed to fix it; hopefully one of his books held the answer.

Draco needed to speak to Lupin, but hadn’t wanted to interrupt his professors. So when Lupin had gotten up to walk out, Draco, having watched Lupin slouch toward the exit with a pensive, if defeated, expression, decided it was now or never. He had a feeling his professor might head to his office, so Draco had stalled for time. “Harry, I’ll be right back. I need to speak to Lupin,” he said to the curious boy sitting beside him. “I should be back fairly soon.”

“Okay,” Harry replied, leaning back against the bed and closing his eyes, as he felt a bit tired. Draco placed a brief kiss to his lips before getting off the bed and making his way out of the hospital wing, after Lupin.

@>*~

Draco stood in front of Lupin’s office, peeking in as the door stood open and he heard Lupin muttering to himself as he looked through many different books. His professor’s desk was literally strewn with books, some on the verge of toppling off the desk and onto the floor.

Draco took a steeling breath and rapped his knuckles on the open door, startling Remus, who nearly dropped a particularly thick tome before he said, “Enter.” The blond walked inside the office, face masked with a sneer at the sight of the mess Lupin called an office, and stood before the professor’s desk. Remus frowned a moment at Draco’s expression; it was one that meant the visit was not going to go over well. “Mr. Malfoy,” he cautiously greeted, wariness lacing his tone. “To what do I owe this visit?”

The blond took a moment before replying, “What happens to Harry now?”

Lupin’s brow creased. “What do you mean?” Remus asked, raising an eyebrow at the blond boy across from him. He immediately imagined the worst: was there something wrong with Harry?

Draco wasn’t sure how to begin, looking at the floor, feeling Lupin staring at him. He felt mildly disconcerted with the werewolf staring at him; it gave him chills, even though he knew his professor wouldn’t harm him, at least not at school. He still didn’t know if Lupin was going to try and keep him away from Harry and his child, but he’d be damned if he was going to just sit back and let it happen. “I meant about having the baby,” Draco elaborated.

“Oh,” Remus began, sighing inwardly in relief. “Well, Harry will stay here until he gives birth, which is going to be about half as painful as you imagined what Professor Snape may be feeling,” he said, pulling his chair out and taking a seat, bones popping audibly, gesturing for Draco to do the same in the chair across from his desk. “He isn’t female and there are no spells--that I know of anyway--that can make him one. He may have to give birth from the same area the baby entered, so to speak.”

Draco frowned at this, but nodded in understanding nonetheless. The picture his mind brought up at this made him swallow thickly and clench that area tightly in sympathy for what Harry would be going through. “So, what will happen with my family?”

Lupin sighed and rubbed at his graying temples. “I don’t know what to tell you, Draco. I know what presumably happened between you and your father, and you’ll have to tell myself or Dumbledore about that in detail in the near future after Harry is back on his feet.” Lupin calmly held up a hand to forestall Draco's incoming contest about... something. “No, not to make sure you’re telling the truth. We know where your loyalties lie, Draco, rest assured. Harry will be there to support you emotionally because whether you would admit it or not, it does pain you to know you may never have your father again.” Lupin gave him a knowing look.

Draco remained silent through all this, pensive, speechless. His betrayal to his family still had not hit him fully yet; Lupin confirming it only made the ache all the more worse. And then he looked up as Lupin continued speaking. “We’ve talked to your mother, and things are transpiring.” Draco frowned, creasing his forehead at the mention of his mother. “We won’t know for sure until we hear back from her, but she’s well, and worried about you. She knows you are fine, as we’d sent an owl to her shortly after you arrived. As for Harry’s future, after the baby: that is up to him, and you.”

Draco had remained quiet throughout Lupin's explanation. The baby. Did he want the baby? He wanted Harry, yes, he knew that; maybe not every single moment of his life, Merlin forbid, but he knew he wanted him a little, at least, if they were going to be sharing the duties of parenthood. But he just wasn't sure if he was ready for everything that had suddenly dropped in his lap. He was going to be a father, and very soon (and a young, teen-aged one, at that); his relationship with Harry, for lack of a better term, had gone from rivals to sexual partners to...what? Friends? Lovers? A couple? Even he still wasn't sure. He'd just have to take it one day at a time, as he had been doing when this situation had first started.

He raised his head and stared over the professor's shoulder, furrow still etched in his brow, and stood up from his chair, unable to look at Lupin with everything running through his head at the moment. "Thank you, professor," he quietly said, walking out of the cluttered office, leaving a frowning Remus behind, and made his way through the school and back to the hospital wing. Back to Harry.

@>*~

Draco took his time walking back to the hospital wing, hands in his pockets as he strolled down the corridor, getting closer and closer to the double doors. He was lost in his thoughts, feeling a little melancholy over what had transpired between him and his father. Hoping he had done the right thing when he had chosen Harry over his own father.

The blond froze in his step when a sudden yell pierced the silence, coming from the hospital. Draco’s eyes widened to a near painful size at this, and he ran as fast as his legs would carry him, panicking the entire way, hoping nothing bad was going on. Draco threw open the doors and hoofed it to Harry's bed, chest stabbed by stitches from the burst of breath his lungs provided, skidding to a halt before it. Harry, who was flushed, sweaty, and red in the face, gripped the sheets as if he was afraid he’d float away.

“What the hell’s going on?” Draco bellowed to anyone who would listen, standing by the side of Harry’s bed, looking down helplessly at his very sweaty-looking lover. Harry groaned as a wave of pain hit him, radiating from his lower back to his front. It felt like a sledgehammer was being pummeled against his stomach.

Madam Pomfrey tsked at Draco’s demanding roars. Honestly, how was she supposed to work with people making a scene? “Mr. Malfoy, please refrain from shouting,” she coolly said as she walked swiftly to Harry’s side (the one not occupied by Draco). “Mr. Potter is in labor,” she continued, waving her wand over Harry in intricate patterns. “Here, Potter, drink this; your body wasn’t designed like a female’s to deliver a baby,” she said to Harry, who took the cup of liquid with shaking hands, bringing it to his lips. It helped with the pain a little bit, as his muscles relaxed, and the pain and shaking ebbed some.

Pomfrey waved her wand over Harry’s stomach, muttering a few words neither boy could hear very well but was pointless anyway, since neither of them were paying attention. Harry audibly gasped as he suddenly felt as though a hose had been shoved up his arse and turned on high speed, making him writhe and squirm as much as his pregnant belly would allow. He was being cleaned out, he realized, probably for the baby. At any rate, he didn’t think he’d need to use the toilet that way for a long time to come. It was then Harry idly wondered, peculiarly and absentmindedly, if he’d suddenly start farting bubbles.

Draco watched as Pomfrey waved her wand for a third time, making Harry frown and wiggle against his bed a bit. “What’s wrong?” he quickly asked the dark-haired boy, threading his fingers through Harry’s damp hair, breathing deeply also at his near panicking.

“I feel like my arsehole is dragging on the bed,” Harry complained, eyeing Pomfrey critically like she slapped him with a two by four.

Draco frowned and looked at Pomfrey questioningly. She sighed heavily, a bored look overshadowing her face. “Mr. Potter, I did no such thing. It is a spell to help make the lower intestine, rectum, and anus as flexible as a rubber band. If I had not done so, you and your child would die, trying to squeeze it out of your lower regions,” she explained, studiously ignoring their shocked faces.

“The curse only allows for a wizard to become pregnant,” she continued, “not be able to birth a child. All a wizard is born with is an extremely flexible tube connecting to the rectum and a pseudo-uterus, which is, in turn, connected to the tube. This is why this spell was invented, to allow a wizard to give birth safely,” she finished, putting her wand away for the time being.

Harry was going to say something to this, but was cut off by another wave of pain. Granted, it hadn’t been as painful as before he’d taken the pain potion, but he still felt like someone was stabbing him repeatedly right above his groin with a sharp, pointy object. Draco fretted a bit at Harry’s groan, carding fingers leaving Harry’s inky black locks to muss his own, gripping them, frantic, before he looked at Pomfrey contemptuously. “Can’t you give him something stronger for the pain?”

“I could,” the mediwitch casually replied, “but I’m not sure how long Potter, here, will be in labor, so it could do harm to the child,” she sternly explained, turning to move down the walkway to gather some key items she knew she’d need soon.

Harry relaxed, slumping gratefully into his pillows for a short reprieve, catching his breath as the pain faded for a moment. He had a little time per contraction to sigh while waiting for the next one to come. It almost made him want to sob. This felt almost as bad, or worse, than the Cruciatus Curse. In fact, he’d prefer being tortured to insanity with the Cruciatus than these intense bouts of pain hitting him Merlin knew when. After another contraction hit him, making him gasp out in agony, Harry froze as he felt the sheets under his arse suddenly become sopping wet. It had been the oddest sensation, almost like he had just pissed out of his arse, or had a really bad case of the runs. “Er,” he inarticulately said, wriggling a bit uncomfortably.

“What?” Draco none-too-gently asked, trying not to freak out at every little thing, though his resolve was wearing thin since this was normal--kind of--and Harry wasn’t dying or anything.

Before Harry could say anything, Pomfrey suddenly appeared, whipping aside the sheet covering Harry’s legs, eliciting a startled and annoyed, “oi!” from Harry as she closely examined him. He had removed his trousers and underwear earlier when he’d first felt the pain. He’d had no choice really, as Pomfrey had banished them to the ether, much to Harry’s chagrin.

“Your water broke, that’s good. I was afraid I might have to do it for you, and that would have been quite difficult,” she said, tone one of mild relief, clearing away the mess under him with a flick of her wand. “I’ll come back when your contractions are constant. There’s really no measuring dilation in these situations,” she informed as she bustled off once again.

Draco paced from the bed to the curtain and back, several times while Pomfrey had examined Harry. He was frantic, running his hands through his now messy hair, worried for Harry.

Meanwhile, Severus lay in the bed across the ward, groaning and grimacing at his own pain. He’d listened in on what was happening with Potter, to try and keep his mind off the pain, more than to be nosy. He couldn’t see anything past the thick curtains that had been drawn around Potter’s bed, nor did he honestly want to. He closed his eyes, feeling tired, even though it was too hard to sleep with the pain spiking in his forearm constantly, reminding.

Harry’s sudden yell of pain jarred Snape out of his internal musings, causing him to raise his head up a bit from the soft stack of pillows under his head. Snape hoped the boy spewed out the little rugrat soon, if only so he could get some rest from the Mark gnawing at his arm. And he was mildly curious to see what they were having, and whom it’d take after. Of course, he’d never admit it to anyone while he lived.

Harry grabbed at the sheets so hard, so violently, he pulled them up from the bed, nearly tearing them into pieces. Draco, in some semblance of help, wet a washcloth he’d picked up from the side table, wrung it out, and wiped the sweat off of Harry’s face. He ignored the irritated glare he received for his efforts.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Harry panted, weak from exhaustion, biting back another cry of pain, biting his lips so hard he’d broken skin, as his contractions began getting closer and closer to each other. They’d been about three or so minutes apart, letting him rest in between each one, but now they were only a few seconds apart, or at least that’s what it felt like to Harry.

“This is all your bloody fault!” Harry grunted, glaring and taking a weak swing at the blond boy patting the beads of sweat from his head.

“I know,” Draco replied, soothingly.

“Don’t give me that ‘I know’ crap!” the enraged wizard spat. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be playing Quidditch, or watching Hermione and Ron arguing, but oh, no, Mister shag-Harry-every-five-minutes, getting me pregnant!” he yelled, barely hearing Snape trying to hold back the snickers that were desperately trying to escape. “Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me this could happen?” He grunted, fingers clutching at nearly torn sheets and heels digging into the mattress. “Everyone knows I was raised by Muggles; some information would have been helpful!”

“But no one thought the Golden Boy would turn out to be a poof,” Snape muttered tetchily, though Harry didn’t hear him, which was doubtlessly a good thing.

Pomfrey suddenly pulled back the curtains—-what the hell was she, a ghost, popping in whenever she was needed--wheeling in a small medical trolley with shiny, silver things and some strange type of basinet on it. Draco’s eyes were drawn to it, glued, really, the reality slamming into him like the contractions hitting Harry when he was startled by, “It’s time, Potter,” Pomfrey said breathlessly, cheerfully, making Draco wonder why. Harry certainly didn’t seem all that cheerful. Scowling and surly, perhaps. “Malfoy, I’ll need you to help Potter onto his knees; have him face the wall.”

“Okay,” Draco said, nodding at once, moving quickly to do as he was told.

Harry was dubious though, his eyes slanting suspiciously towards the matron. “Why do I need to be on my knees?”

Pomfrey kept herself from rolling her eyes in exasperation. Even seconds from giving birth, the boy was infuriating. “I need to have access to your bottom, won’t I, since I can’t reach it if it’s spread out on the sheet.”

“Oh.” Harry blinked owlishly and rolled awkwardly to his knees with Draco’s help, pausing a moment as a sharp wave of pain slammed into him, taking his breath away and making him cry out in anguish. “Let’s hurry this up; I don’t think I can take any more of this,” came his breathless plea.

“All right, Potter, on your next contraction, I need you to push,” Pomfrey said sternly, sitting on the bed near Harry’s exposed arse.

“How?”

“Like you’re sitting on the toilet,” she distractedly replied, waving her wand over Harry.

Harry held onto the bars of the bed’s headboard, clenching his stomach muscles and pushing with all his might as he felt the pain flow over him again, locking his body in that position for as long as his exhaustion would let him. He stopped to take a deep, heaving breath before pushing again, whining slightly as he felt the baby begin to move through his body. It bloody hurt! His insides felt like they were trying to accommodate a giant Quaffle or three of Draco’s fists. He had to stop a moment in his pushing to take some panting breaths, breaths that made his chest hurt. He felt as if he were running a marathon; he was sore and tired of pushing. His arms were shaking with the effort to keep hold of the headboard.

“Come on, Potter. I can see the crown of the head. Your little one will be here soon,” Pomfrey encouraged, taking a cloth from the trolley and wiping some of the blood and mucous that began to ooze out as he was busily pushing.

In the meantime, Draco was rubbing Harry’s back, trying not to look anywhere but at the back of Harry’s head, when he heard Pomfrey exclaim, “Ah! There we go. Keep pushing, Potter, the head’s almost out.”

The blond couldn’t help himself and chanced a look below; his mouth fell open in awe at seeing a little forehead sticking halfway out of Harry’s body. He’d helped make that forehead. He watched, transfixed, as Harry continued to push the little person out of his body. Draco watched as the entire forehead was visible, than two closed, sunken eyes came into view, followed by a very tiny nose (where Pomfrey used some worrisome contraption to suction mucous and fluid out of it), and finally a tiny mouth and chin.

Draco held back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks—-with some difficulty--at finally getting to meet his child, someone he’d made, or at least a small part, anyway. He whispered encouragements that only Harry, who was panting and gripping the bars of the headboard for dear life, could hear. Almost cheering him on to keep pushing; telling him that their baby would be here soon.

Harry grunted, lowering his head, chin to chest, as he finally finished pushing the head out, thankful that Madam Pomfrey had used that stretching spell of hers to help things along. He still felt the stretch and slight burn of his anus accepting the baby’s head through it, but he doubted there’d be much tearing, at least he hoped there wouldn’t be.

He kept pushing, weary, the arms of his tiredness trying to pull him under, until he finally gave one last hard push and felt the baby slide right out, making him feel like his bones had the consistency of a cooked noodle as he shook a bit. Harry suddenly felt the cord still dangling from his body, warm and slick; it felt really, really odd having it just hanging there against him. He stayed where he was, though, deathly afraid he might kick his baby by accident or hurt it some other way.

Pomfrey quickly took the baby once it finally came out, cutting the cord with a pair of surgical scissors and snapping a clamp onto the end still attached to the little one on the bed. She suctioned out the nose and mouth a few dozen times, making sure she cleared the baby’s airway. Once she was done, she used the towels the baby was wriggling on to clean off, warm, and stimulate the little one into crying.

The baby’s first few attempts at crying sounded squeaky and wet, but once it had taken a few breaths, it let its unhappiness at being removed from its warm, wet haven known to everyone within hearing range with loud wailing and flailing its limbs about, balled little fists beating the air.

While Harry had been busy pushing, Draco stared in stunned shock as the baby finally emerged completely into the world. He counted ten little fingers (clenched into fists) and ten little toes. His eyes darted a look between the baby’s legs and found--a little wand! They had a boy… a boy! Draco frowned a moment at seeing the ashen grey of his son’s skin at first, but sighed in relief as the skin began to pick up some color after he had taken some much needed breaths to wail out his displeasure.

Draco couldn’t keep the tears from flowing freely this time. The Malfoy mask be damned, this was just too moving for even him to hide his feelings. Draco leaned towards Harry’s head, which was hanging down, eyes shut, as he caught his breath. “Harry, it’s a boy. We have a son!” he said with breathless excitement to his lover, who grunted in response, too tired to do much of anything else.

Harry suddenly squeaked, “Eep!” at the feel of something moist and squishy sliding out of his arse. It made him squirm at the feel, but he sighed as the cord was now gone. Pomfrey picked the little boy up from the bed and placed him gently into the basinet on the trolley a moment as she wagged her wand, cleaning up the mess from the bed and Harry. “Mr. Malfoy, please help Potter onto his back; gently now, he’ll be sore for a while.”

Draco nodded, doing as he was told posthaste. Harry moaned as he was placed onto his back, boneless with enervation, and then helped into a sitting position. He smiled wanly at Draco a moment; sweat plastering his hair to his face, before turning his head to see his son, who was fussing in the white basinet. Pomfrey gently picked up the baby, now swaddled in a yellow blanket, from the cot and laid him into Harry’s arms. Harry looked down at his son, brushing a thumb softly across his scar-less forehead, and smiled up at Draco. “He’s got dark hair like me.”

“Yes, I know,” Draco said quietly, not wanting to disturb the baby—their baby—holding a small hand between his forefinger and thumb, petting the soft hair on his son’s head. The baby quieted down some at the caressing touch.

“Congratulations, boys.” The mediwitch genuinely smiled, regarding the small family. “What will you name him?” Pomfrey asked curiously.

Draco looked taken aback, his brow creasing in alarm. He’d never actually thought about it with everything that had happened recently. “Er…I’m not sure,” he replied, looking down at Harry with an uncertain frown.

"I know," Harry piped in wearily, hoping Draco wouldn't mind and put up too much of a fight. The blond’s interest was definitely piqued. “His name is James Sirius Potter-Malfoy, or Jamie so as not to confuse people,” he answered, looking at Draco tentatively to be sure it was okay.

Draco gave him a look, but he decided to give Harry this, since he had just given him a son. “Got that?” Draco brusquely asked Madam Pomfrey as he turned to look at her.

She frowned at Draco’s tone, but nonetheless, made a mental note to add it to the official paperwork she’d need to submit to the New Births Department of the Ministry, so they would have a record of his birth.

At this time, Snape opened his eyes at the cry of the newborn baby. He listened closely, intently, to Pomfrey puttering around behind the curtain, eyes narrowed. He stayed in bed, waiting until Pomfrey left the two boys and their new son alone before he made his move. Once he saw her walk out, Snape sat up, hissing slightly at the flare of pain that hit him from his Dark Mark. Taking a deep breath, he stood, holding the footboard for balance as his vision swam a moment, than made his way slowly to the curtained-off area where Malfoy and Potter were safely ensconced.

Steeling himself (because he felt a wave of nausea run over him), he cleared his throat to announce his presence. “Ahem.”

“Professor Snape?” Severus heard Malfoy ask, questioning tone in his voice with a bit of surprise.

“Yes. May I enter?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure if Potter was decent and he really didn’t want to see one of his students naked. The last thing he needed now was more trouble, especially from Potter.

He heard the two boys whispering to one another before a brief, “Sure,” reached his ears. Severus then pulled aside the curtain, briefly surveying the two boys and newest addition in close proximity, before walking over to the side of the bed Malfoy wasn’t occupying. He felt awkward standing there in silence, but he wasn’t about to say anything really; he was still feeling quite unwell.

“How are you, Professor?” Surprisingly it was Potter who asked, shifting the small bundle in his arms, they were getting cramped a bit.

“Not very well, but that’s to be expected at the moment,” he lazily answered. “Yourself?”

“Sore and really tired, but glad it’s finally over,” Harry replied, shifting his son to his shoulder to stretch out his cramped arm. “Would you like to see our son?”

Snape blinked, taken aback by the question. Even though that was his main reason for walking over, he’d assumed Malfoy would ask. Nevertheless, Severus nodded once, and Harry switched Jamie to his arm closest to Severus. “Meet our son, James Potter-Malfoy.”

Severus frowned slightly at the name (hoping if and when he had to teach their child, he wouldn’t be as bad as his name sakes), but blanked his features into an impassive mask and leaned over to get a good look at the little boy. Jamie’s eyes were open, but unfocused. Snape could see they were blue, but he’d heard somewhere that all babies were born with blue eyes, so it’d be a few years before one would know what color they’d truly be.

He had a thick mop of dark hair, which fell over his ears a little. Severus could see a little of both fathers in the child’s face (a little of Malfoy’s pointed chin and Potter’s pouting lips), but again, it was still too early to tell for sure. Jamie squirmed in his father’s arms as he was being scrutinized, occasionally moving his head around at all the voices he heard. “He’s a very handsome young man,” Severus honestly said, earning a grin from Harry and a smirk from Draco.

“Thank you,” Harry said. Jamie took that moment to begin fussing, so Harry placed him over his shoulder and rubbed his son’s tiny back, murmuring softly to him. Jamie calmed down a bit then, and sleepily closed his eyes.

Snape chose then to take his leave, nodding curtly at both boys before turning and heading back to his own bed. He was still in pain and now his head was beginning to hurt also.

As soon as Snape had left, Harry turned his head to look at Draco. "So I've been thinking," he casually began, making Draco raise an eyebrow at him.

"So soon? Isn't that dangerous?" Draco idly teased, his right index finger caressing their son's tiny fist.

Harry ignored his light tone and continued, eyes leaving Draco to fall on their child, "Our son will need godparents."

Draco stared at him a moment, searching his eyes with a look. “Whom do you have in mind?” he asked, knowing the answer already, if his time with Harry had taught him anything.

“Ron and Hermione,” Harry replied with a lazy little sigh, closing his eyes a moment, wondering if Draco would go into a snit or not. “Unless you have someone else in mind?”

Draco’s forehead creased, the corners of his mouth falling into a frown as he thought it over for a minute. The only person he’d really considered a friend was Blaise, and trying to picture him raising their son scared him a little. “No, they’re fine. Even though I don’t particularly like either of them.” And Harry noticed he’d tried hard to keep the venom out of his voice and the sneer off his face. “I’m sure they would treat our son as if he were theirs,” he thoughtfully said, earning a deep, wet kiss from the brunet at this.

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry replied, smiling widely. “Coming from you, that was almost a compliment.”

Draco actually blushed a little. “Yes, well, don’t spread that around.”

@>*~

Hermione caught up with Ron just before the portrait of the Fat Lady. “Ron,” she called as she walked up to him, startling when he stopped.

“I know,” Ron started curtly as he turned to face his girlfriend, face scrunched in annoyance. “I’m being pigheaded. I don’t hate Harry, you know that. I’m not upset he’s with a bloke or that he got pregnant, it’s just who he chose.” He paused a moment to take a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. Hermione remained silent, knowing the redhead needed to get this off his chest.

“It’s strange, you know? The three of us, and Malfoy. I never pictured him in the equation,” he said, taking a seat on the stairs. Hermione sat down next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. “And did you see Harry? He was _huge_ ; I thought he and Malfoy had just gotten it together? He’ll have to tell us what happened while he was away. That’s another thing; how are we going to hang out and such if there’s a baby in the picture? I knew he’d want kids of his own some day, but we’re only seventeen, and still in school.” He sighed, quieting down as he thought things over.

Hermione took that as her cue to talk. “Ron, we can still do things together; we’ll just have more people with us when we do,” she said, kissing his cheek. “Come on,” she started, standing up and grabbing his hand. “We should go back and visit with Harry; he needs us, he’ll always need us. We’re his family, after all.” Ron looked up at her, face still frowning, but nodded. It was true: Harry was their friend, their best friend, and he needed their support now more than ever.

Merlin… why did Hermione always have to be right?

@>*~

Harry was smiling calmly, feeding Jamie from a bottle. He had inquired about the need for one when Pomfrey told him that due to the rapid rate the baby had grown, his body hadn’t had a chance to produce the hormones needed in greater quantity to feed his son from his own body. Harry wasn’t too disappointed at this since he really hadn’t been looking forward to having a set of breasts, or even the male equivalent. It was still a shock knowing he was capable of getting pregnant in the first place.

Jamie looked up at Harry as he lay there, little mouth sucking at the nipple of the bottle, tiny arms crossed over his chest, making contented little noises as he fed. Draco continued stroking his son’s dark head, running a finger softly every so often along his son’s smooth forehead. Jamie moved his eyes around as he ate, but soon they fell shut, little mouth opening as he went into a light doze. When Harry pulled the bottle from his mouth, Jamie would begin sucking again.

After the bottle was empty, Harry pulled it away, handing it to Draco to place on the nearby table. Jamie smacked his lips and fluttered his eyes drowsily. Harry knew he had to burp his son now, and he had some clue about how to go about it; the tele was a wonderful Muggle invention, after all, when he’d been able to actually watch it, of course.

Harry placed his son over his shoulder (Draco curiously watching what Harry was doing) and after rubbing a circle, began patting his back. He did this for a few minutes before a loud belch rang throughout the hospital wing; Harry couldn’t help but snicker.

“I see he’s taking after you already,” Draco quipped, grinning. Harry gave him a look and opened his mouth to retort when they heard footsteps coming towards them.

“Harry?” Hermione questioned softly, wanting to be sure she wouldn’t barge in on them.

Harry looked surprised, turning to Draco, who had taken his son from Harry to hold. Jamie was groggy and full, but didn’t seem to want to sleep yet. “Come on through, Hermione,” he called through the curtain.

Hermione pushed aside the curtains, walking over to Harry, not noticing the bundle in Draco’s arms yet; Ron following a few seconds later. “How are you?” Hermione asked, leaning over to hug her friend.

Harry had a hopeful look on his face at seeing Ron with her. Perhaps he was coming around sooner than expected. “I’m fine. Tired and sore though. Oh,” he said, finally indicating the bundle in Draco’s arms. “I have someone I want you two to meet.”

“Oh?” Hermione asked, frowning a little. She raised her eyebrow when Harry turned to Malfoy. What was he playing at; they already knew the blond. She gasped loudly though when Draco held out his arms, presenting Jamie. “Harry, you had the baby already?” she cried out, carefully taking the little boy into her arms. “Oh, he’s so adorable!” She couldn’t help but gush. She didn’t often squeal in girlish delight, but this was definitely an exception.

Ron looked pole-axed, but moved closer to his girlfriend to take a peek at their friend’s baby also. “Boy or girl?” he asked because it was usually hard to tell with the kid swathed in blankets.

Harry just beamed; beamed so brightly he could almost light up a room. “Boy. And his name’s James Sirius. We decided to combine our surnames. So he’s the first Potter-Malfoy,” Harry replied, grinning at Ron’s raised eyebrow at his announcement. He was just so happy. He had his two best friends, his new son, and Draco with him. Plus Snape had stopped by to see Jamie. He hadn’t felt this happy since Hagrid had told him he was a wizard.

Draco watched as Granger continued to coo over his son (who was making contented noises at the attention), while Weasley tickled his toes. Yes, he’d been right in assuming they’d treat his son like their own, even if he hoped he’d never need them to.

Harry cleared his throat after a few moments to get his two friends’ attention. “Since you two are here, I wanted to ask you something,” he began, both Ron and Hermione looking at him, waiting. Ron’s hand absently continued brushing at Jamie’s feet. “Draco and I were talking and I--we, were wondering if the two of you would do us the honor and become Jamie’s godparents?”

“Oh, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed, passing over Jamie to Ron (who stammered a moment), and flung herself on Harry, hugging the breath out of him. She ignored his, ‘Hermione, need air!’ letting him go and moved quickly to Draco, who she also hugged, getting huge, wide eyes from the blond at this and an awkward pat on her back from him as he gave Harry a look that said, ‘don’t look at me, she’s _your_ friend,'

Ron wasn’t as overemotional; he walked over to Draco, passed over his son and shook Harry’s hand. “You know I will, mate.”

Harry smiled, barely keeping back a yawn. Ron and Hermione said their good-byes, knowing Harry needed sleep, and told him they’d see him again later. Harry waved and let the yawn out finally, closing his eyes as soon as his friends left. Draco got comfortable in his seat, cuddling his son, who had thought a nap sounded good and did just that. Draco looked down at him, and wondered what the future would bring. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about everything just yet, but he did know he had fallen in love with the little person in his arms.

@>*~

Snape woke up from his fitful sleep with the distinct feeling that someone was watching him very closely. He knew Potter and Malfoy were still behind the curtains on their side of the room, as he could hear their son cooing. Snape finally opened his eyes and looked around, scrutinizing, frowning when he spotted Lupin (who looked quite haggard) sitting in a chair beside him, an open thick and shabby book in his lap. Lupin seemed to sense his awakening and glanced up, smiling warmly at his furrowed brow.

“How are you feeling?” Remus asked quietly, running a hand through his own hair. He was bone tired after everything that happened the last few days.

Snape took a moment to assess his condition and found he wasn’t in as much pain as he had been yesterday. “I’m feeling slightly better,” he carefully answered, sitting up. Bemusement faintly lit his guarded face. “Why are you here again?”

Lupin leaned back and sighed, fingers falling to the pages of the book in his lap. “I’ve been going through all the books I have about getting rid of curses, tattoos, and some such to help you with the Dark Mark.” Snape’s brows had quickly risen in surprise before his face went blank again. Lupin smiled secretly, pleased to have caught such emotion from the normally detached man. “And despite what I originally thought, I, as a dark creature, am actually more beneficial to you, if I stay close. Almost like two negatives making a positive, as strange as it sounds.”

“I see,” Severus said, frowning. “What does Pomfrey think of this explanation?”

“She agrees,” Remus replied thoughtfully. “I’ve been here a few hours and though you’re obviously still in some pain, you were sleeping a little better than before I arrived.”

Severus frowned a bit at this. He took a moment to see how he really felt, aside from the odd sting in his arm now: surprisingly, he actually felt more like himself. Either the Dark Lord tired of torturing him, or Lupin’s presence had actually helped. He slowly swept the starchy infirmary sheets off him, swinging his legs—much heavier in his opinion from lack of use for several hours—over the side of the bed near Lupin, making Lupin jump up to help him. Remus fetched Snape’s boots and helped put them on him when Severus had bent down to pick them up from the floor. Severus glared; he wasn’t an invalid and could get his own damn boots. After Lupin helped him with them—what, was he five?—Snape stood up, losing his balance a moment before two strong arms encircled his waist, steadying him, holding him.

Severus took a moment for the vertigo to pass, while Lupin made sure he was able to stand on his own. He may not have been in excruciating pain anymore, but fighting the Dark Lord’s retribution the day before had left him a bit drained. Once he got his bearings, he realized belatedly that Lupin was still holding him. They stared at each other, eyes locked, when Severus lifted his head a bit to look at him, wetting his lips without thinking.

Remus wasn’t sure why he did it, but he leaned forward, amber eyes falling to Snape’s pale, thin lips, and placed a light kiss onto the Potion master’s lips, getting a wide-eyed reaction when he pulled back to see Severus’ face.

So he was quite surprised when Severus grabbed the front of his robes in potion-stained fists, dragging him forward so hard their chests slammed together. And suddenly, his tongue was there, hot and hard, plunging again and again and again in his mouth. He moaned, opening his mouth, closing his eyes, and melting into the kiss, sighing contentedly as arousal lazily spread through him. Snape’s tongue was insistent, coaxing his own, prodding, stabbing, kneading his own into submission, into desperation. But he wanted to savor this, enjoy it, let it take his breath away: at least, before Snape came to his senses and pushed him away.

However, Snape had no such silly, frilly, starry-eyed notions in mind. He was horny, and damn it, this was the first person he’d kissed in eighteen years, and he had no intention of it being the romantic tripe Lupin was hoping for. He squeezed Lupin’s shabby cloak in his fists, not caring whether it would tear or not, and swirled his tongue almost violently against Lupin’s, uncaring of the saliva that slobbered down the other man’s chin. In fact, he was sure Remus was used to it by now, being a snarling, hissing, spitting werewolf. A werewolf that he certainly didn’t mind snogging. Snape sucked on his tongue, a promise of things to come—and hopefully he’d be part of those things—with ferocity, drinking in Lupin’s amorous groan while deepening the kiss, tongue sliding along, encouraging Lupin’s to duel. And then, he pulled his tongue back in his mouth and used teeth.

The Potions master almost smirked in dark glee as Lupin gasped, choking on his own tongue, before he finally felt that dark beast stir in Lupin, the werewolf, awaken. That bite seemed to rouse something in him: something incredibly desperate, something hungry. It was as if Snape was the tormenting moon, shining on him full blast, and he was vulnerable to his whims, his influence: his power. Snape’s tongue surged back in his mouth again, and Remus could have sworn he heard the wolf howling in the back of his mind.

Suddenly, his fingers were like claws, digging into Snape’s arms and his robes, hungry, because Snape was his food; thirsty, because Snape was his water. He could sense the wolf, far from sated and content, clawing its way to the forefront, frantic, fighting with its tongue, with Snape, and Snape, oh Severus, tasted of sweat and earth and yesterday’s potion—he could taste the fusion of chimera and dragon blood with a hint of rose oil and ginger just under his tongue—and he tasted of magic. Raw magic, clashing Dark and Light, and it tasted divine and perfect and so Snape that Remus grunted into Snape’s mouth, renewing the battle for dominance, the wolf in him not ready to give in just yet.

Snape wanted to tell himself this was all about the Dark Lord. That the kiss was nothing more than a ploy to feed off the Dark creature in Lupin to appease his Dark Mark ... but gods, he hadn’t been with anyone since that lumbering fiasco in seventh year with that freckled and screechy Slytherin wench, and this was far from it. He was loath to do this in public, right across from Potter and Malfoy no less, but Lupin tasted so good: musky and earthy and masculine and Dark, their tongues dueling, fighting, clashing, teeth clicking together and nipping, spit slopping from the corners of their mouths, Lupin valiantly fighting a battle he couldn’t win, and he could taste blood on their bruised lips. It wasn’t perfect, by any stretch of the imagination, but it was good. Snape curled his fists tighter in Remus’ ratty robes and forced his dominance on the bloody wolf, and Lupin. He’d be damned if he let Lupin win this fight.

The coppery taste hitting his tongue set his senses afire; Lupin swore if Snape had looked at him then, the man would have witnessed dilated amber eyes—wolf eyes—ready to pounce and mark and claim at a moment’s notice. The taste of Severus’ sweet blood mingled with his own spurred him on, set his blood boiling, searing, and he moaned again, quiet, but still a moan, and his grip tightened. Their tongues were locked in a fierce dance, tangling around each other and he could feel Snape’s hot breath scorching his mouth, his hooked nose spitting hot air all over his face. Hands were tugging at his cloak one minute, and racing over his body the next, nails drawing goosebumps to the surface, making him leak through his trousers, his cock so hard it could cut stone as Remus pulled at him, wanting to be closer, to feel his warmth, feel him: feel Severus. He could feel the fabric of Snape’s cloak giving, yielding, nearly tearing beneath his fingers—and then nothing. All at once, it was over.

Disappointedly, Snape ripped himself away from him, letting the robes in his balled fists go lax before pulling away completely. If there was ever a documented case on the sound a werewolf made when its heart was crushed, Lupin was sure to be the lead expert on it. Still, he stood there, unnaturally cold, more distant from Snape than he would have liked to have been, far from the warmth Severus offered, and waited.

Snape, on the other hand, stared at Lupin as if it were all his fault. Which, if he were being practical about this, it was. Unfortunately, the odds were also against him as he’d initiated the second kiss. Thus, he was just as at fault, just as guilty. And anyone would see right through his excuse of using Lupin to stem the pain from the Dark Lord’s torture through his Mark. Snape knew he was screwed: in every way but the way he wanted. He panted once, roughly, dark eyes bulging as they appraised Lupin, as he closed himself off, turned on his heel, and walked out of the hospital wing, robes billowing behind him.

Remus watched Snape leave, just walk away, robes puffing up behind him like a great storm cloud. As Snape turned down the hall and out of sight, Remus sighed heavily, shoulders sagging, looking every bit like the threadbare and haggard wizard he was used to being. So that was that, then, and about as likely to happen again as Flitwick marrying Hagrid’s mother. He sighed forlornly, shaking his head, and licked his lips, the taste of their first—-and probably last--kiss, still on his tongue.

Snape made his way distractedly towards Dumbledore’s office, lost in his thoughts, wondering why on Earth he had kissed Lupin again after the first brief touch of their lips. He couldn’t come up with anything better than Lupin being the only one who seemed to give a damn about his well-being, but even he winced at such a weak argument. Severus had to admit—and rather grudgingly--that Lupin was attractive, but he just wasn’t sure if he felt anything for the werewolf or not. Of course, he didn’t have a whole lot of experience with someone finding him attractive; he knew he wasn’t very good looking by any stretch of the imagination, and truthfully, as he licked his lips nostalgically, couldn’t be arsed to care.

@>*~

“Ah, Severus. How good to see you, my boy!” Dumbledore greeted cheerfully, truly happy to have his professor safe and sound and not in any pain (at least not as much as he had been in). “How are you faring?”

“I am doing better, Headmaster,” Snape replied, sitting in a comfortable seat across from Dumbledore’s desk, his expression grim. “I’m afraid I may need your help, sir.”

Dumbledore sat down in his own seat, nodding solemnly at Severus. “Yes,” he began, aged fingers on his chin, thinking. “It is perfectly fine if you want to stop spying for the Order,” he began, looking into Snape’s eyes, his own twinkling faintly.

Snape raised his eyebrows at this deliberate announcement. Damn the man for being such an accomplished Legilimens! Severus knew even if he blocked his mind until his nose bled from the effort, Dumbledore would still know what he was thinking. Damn it.

“I understand it was very straining and stressful for you over the years. And besides,” he said, leaning back in his chair, placing his arms on the armrests of his chair. “Your cover has been blown, but that’s quite all right,” he lightly commented, blue eyes glimmering behind his half-moon spectacles. “We now have a new spy.”

Snape barely kept himself from startling in surprise at this new information. A new spy? So soon? Did that mean he’d no longer be needed at Hogwarts, at least as a Potions professor? The thought troubled him more than he’d like to admit. He didn’t particularly like the students all that much, but Hogwarts had been his home for the last seventeen or so years. Steeling himself and taking a deep breath, he evenly asked, “Who is the new informant?”

Dumbledore knew Snape was worried for his teaching job, and his home, though he’d only divulge that when Hell froze over, but truth was, Snape was the best damn Potions professor they could have teaching at Hogwarts, and Albus wasn’t about to sack him. “Narcissa Malfoy.”

“Pardon me?” Snape asked, blinking, bewildered. He could’ve sworn he’d heard wrong.

Dumbledore sighed. “Narcissa Malfoy,” he repeated, looking over his half-moon spectacles at the Potions master. “I have it all worked out. Narcissa will still send letters to Draco, of course. She will also report back to Lucius, who will indeed tell Voldemort, and Draco will tell Harry, who in turn will tell me.”

Snape frowned at the insane logic of the Headmaster, but if he thought it’d work, maybe it would. He was just glad he didn’t have to play cloak and dagger games anymore. It was getting downright tedious, in his opinion.

“Severus,” Dumbledore said, breaking into his internal musings. “Please let Remus know a letter back to Narcissa is in order,” he finished, steepling his fingers together and laying them on his desk.

Though his brow creased and a strange feeling coursed through him at hearing of Remus contacting Narcissa (it was not jealousy, no way in hell would he be jealous), Snape nodded curtly, unclenching his fingers from the armrests. He grimly met the elder wizard’s gaze and confirmed his orders with a silky reply of, “Yes, Headmaster.”

@>*~

Still wondering about what all might happen with Severus, especially after their kiss, Remus paced a bit before he spotted the thick curtains hanging around Harry’s bed. Deciding he needed a distraction, Remus walked casually over to the curtains, taking a moment to clear his thoughts. “Harry?” he asked gently, not wanting to disturb anyone in case they were sleeping. “Are you awake?”

“Yes, professor,” Harry’s soft tone came through the closed curtains. “You can come through if you’d like, sir.”

Remus pushed aside the curtains and made his way to the side of the bed unoccupied by Draco. The blond boy was holding Jamie, his fingers caressing his son’s little hand as the babe stared in fascination at his father.

Remus smiled gently at the sight of the pair, reluctantly pulling his eyes away to face Harry. “I ran into Ron and Hermione earlier today and they told me you had your baby,” he said, looking from Harry to Draco. “Congratulations. A boy, correct?”

Harry smiled proudly, nodding. “Yeah. We named him after my father and Sirius,” he replied, turning as Draco whispered down to their son.

Chest tightening a bit, Remus gave Harry a watery smile. He still missed his friends, especially Sirius, who he’d had a minor relationship with before he’d died. “I’m sure they’re both very proud of you, Harry. And very happy to have their names passed on to your son,” he said, sitting at the foot of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m doing better today. Still a little sore, but Madam Pomfrey said I would be sore a few days. How’s Professor Snape? I couldn’t help but overhear the two of you talking,” Harry inquired, readjusting himself on the bed, getting comfortable.

“He’s doing better. Hopefully the Dark Lord has stopped his torturing of Snape for now. I still haven’t found a way to remove his Mark yet,” he replied, idly pulling at a loose thread on the careworn blanket covering Harry.

Harry nodded in understanding, falling silent. He knew all too well what it was like to be harassed by Voldemort. Harry felt badly about it, but he could honestly say he was glad Voldemort was too busy with Snape to cause him any pain, especially right now. He immediately turned his attention to his son when he made a fussing noise. “Here, Draco: give him to me a moment.” Draco got up from his chair, carefully handing Jamie over to his other father with a mixture of ease and wariness. Harry was thoughtful for a moment before he said, “Professor, would you like to hold him?”

Remus blinked, startled, before smiling. “I’d be honored,” he replied, holding his arms out to accept the little bundle. When Harry delicately placed the newborn in his outstretched arms, he pulled the baby towards his chest, looking down at him, Jamie, who made a questioning noise and moved his head around at Remus’ voice. “He’s a lovely child,” he began with an indulgent grin, running a finger over Jamie’s tiny forehead. “I see he has your hair color, Harry.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, smiling at seeing Remus holding his son. Draco looked on warily, watching the werewolf with his infant son, grey eyes narrowed a bit, but he remained quiet.

They sat there quietly before they heard a sharp rapping against the hospital’s window. Draco was the one to get up from his seat to let the owl inside. The brown owl hooted inquiringly at him and stuck its leg out, indicating it wanted Draco to remove the letter posthaste. Once he took the letter, the owl flew off into the blue sky without hesitation. Draco turned the letter over distrustfully and tensed when he recognized the wax seal of the Malfoy crest stamped on the back, his father’s handwriting on the front addressed to him.

Draco made his way back to Harry and sat down in his chair numbly, the letter tight in his grasp. Remus saw the look on Draco’s face, wan with mostly surprise and confusion, and turned, handing Jamie back over to Harry. “I’ll leave you alone for a while,” Remus said tiredly, standing up from Harry’s bed and making his way out of the hospital wing. And he _was_ tired, spending most of last night and earlier that morning going through his books. He decided now would be the best time to go back to his room for a nap.

As soon as Lupin left, Harry turned to the blond. “Draco?” he questioned, frowning at the blank look on his lover’s face.

“It’s a letter…from my father,” Draco quietly replied, opening it up and scanning it with his eyes. Harry remained quiet (holding Jamie as his son moved his head to take in his surroundings) as the other boy read the letter to himself, watching as his face went through several different expressions.

Draco read quietly, frowning at the words written there; his father was reiterating how he shouldn’t have switched sides for Harry and how his mother took on Snape’s role as informant. _Wonder how that’ll work out_ , he absently mused.

He knew with all his heart that his mother loved him, but he also knew that she loved Lucius as well, and wouldn’t want to risk his father’s wrath over something like this, even though Draco knew that technically she was an honorary Death Eater by the simple fact of being married to his father--more of a Death Eater’s wife, than anything else, really.

He knew his mother had nothing to do with the letter he received from his father. Lucius was only trying to make him change his mind by saying his mother would hate him now. Draco sighed and balled up the letter, sticking it into his pocket and tiredly rubbing his face.

“Draco, are you alright?” Harry tentatively asked once he saw Draco crush the letter.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it,” he assured, more for himself than for Harry’s benefit. “My father only loves me when I do what he wants me to do,” he answered sadly, sighing heavily as he stood up and went to sit on the bed next to Harry and Jamie, needing the support, even if he couldn’t voice it.

Neither one said anything from there, just sitting with each other, Jamie asleep in Harry’s arms. Draco absently brought a hand up to his son’s small head, petting his dark hair, unsure of what the future held for them.

@>*~

Voldemort sat in his chair, once more repaired after he’d blasted it to smithereens. He knew Narcissa had been chosen to be the new informant and he had a few plans in mind for her. He wasn’t sure how he felt about her being the new spy because she was closer to Lucius than she was to either Snape or her own son. He was pretty sure if she asked it, Lucius would betray him in a heartbeat; she was, after all, his wife and he knew Lucius valued his family more than anything else. More than him, even.

Voldemort hadn’t forbid Narcissa from still sending letters to her son. He knew she more than likely wouldn’t obey him, even if he outright told her to cease and desist. He was not happy to find out that the younger Malfoy had apparently switched sides. When the time came, he _would_ make them pay dearly, family of his highest ranked follower or not.

“Lucius,” he smoothly began, “I fear I will need to make new plans against Potter,” the Dark Lord suddenly announced, causing the blond man to look his way.

“I would be inclined to agree, my Lord,” Lucius replied, thinking, plotting his own plans.

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed into sinister slits. “I’m afraid your son may not survive this time.”

Lucius frowned deeply at this. Draco may have been stupid to choose Potter over his own family, but Lucius wasn’t about to let his son perish at the hands of the Dark Lord for his poor choices. “My Lord, my son has no capacity to love such a person as Harry Potter; it’s not in his blood,” Lucius confessed, trying to sound as convincing as he could. He had to make the Dark Lord believe his son was just a stupid bloody teenager.

“My son, he will grow bored and learn to hate the boy for hurting him, making him feel: making him feel he could be anything other than what he is. He will be more valuable, my Lord, I promise you, against Potter in the war if he is allowed to pursue his induced feelings. He will bring us sensitive information, the likes of which any spy could never have learned, and he will bring the boy to his demise,” Lucius swore, striking his fist against his palm for emphasis.

He just hoped the Dark Lord was too stupid to realize he was basically pulling all of this out of his arse. As much as he hoped Draco would do the smart thing and just kill Potter, he knew that Draco cared too much for the boy, which could ultimately lead to his son’s own ruin.

Voldemort listened intently to Lucius’ excuses, fingers tenting beneath his chin. In time, he’d have to see if the younger Malfoy would really come back or not. All in due time. His face suddenly morphed from pensive to evil, causing Lucius to fleetingly doubt in his plan’s ability, but the Dark Lord said nothing.

This was definitely not finished.

@>*~


	14. Epilogue

_Epilogue—Six months later…_

It was their last day of school, as the orange glow of the sun setting shone brightly on Jamie's antique crib, set against the white walls of Draco and Harry’s room. At the moment, Draco was putting the last of their clothing away into the dresser beside their shabby, worn bed. They hadn’t had time to go out and properly shop for a better one (too busy with caring for Jamie and doing their school work), but this would have to do for now.

He couldn’t believe how domestic this all was: _him_ , a pureblood wizard, doing manual labor! But Harry had volunteered for nappy duty when they had both smelled the stench coming from their son. Draco glanced back at Harry and Jamie playing (Harry was making faces at Jamie and cooing down at him) on their bed, his expression lightening at the sight. Draco looked at his son; Jamie’s hair had grown out some over the last six months, and the blond had the distinct impression that his son had inherited his other father’s unruly hair, much to his dismay.

Harry smiled down at his son as he changed him, blowing raspberries on his little round stomach, making Jamie squeal in laughter at the tickling sensations and having to save his hair from the firm grip his son had. Harry was happy he’d be finished with school after today, but felt odd, since he’d grown used to going every year for the last seven years.

They had been given special permission by Professor Dumbledore to spend the weekends at Lupin’s cottage to get it ready for when they both finished with school. Lupin had found a nice area just outside of Hogsmeade to live, with the two boys helping to pitch in some money to purchase it.

It had been extremely difficult to finish school with their son tagging along. They had still had to sleep in their separate dormitories: Dumbledore was sympathetic and understood their situation, but he didn’t change the rules to give them special privileges just because they’d had a baby. The two of them were just happy to have been allowed to finish school instead of being expelled for leaving without permission. They had barely been able to get a babysitter for Jamie, usually lucky enough to have Ron or Hermione volunteer, just so they could find a little time to shag or just be alone. Their lives had definitely changed with the arrival of their son.

Draco then finished with his duties and moved to sit on the bed, touching Jamie’s nose with his forefinger, making Jamie squeal in delight and grab at his daddy’s finger, bringing it to his mouth. He was teething now, and already had two bottom teeth that showed clearly when he beamed at his daddies.

“There.” Harry said in triumph as he finished changing his son and closed the snaps back together on Jamie’s sleeper.

“You ready to go?” Draco asked, picking up their son, who was babbling a bit as his chin rested on Draco’s shoulder.

Harry got up from the bed and stretched, nodding as he stood next to Draco and Jamie, the three of them Apparating to just outside the gates to Hogwarts. Harry was relieved to find out later, it had only been the pregnancy that made him sick each time. Once they appeared in front of the gates, they pushed them open and made their way up to the castle for the last time as students.

\---

As he shrugged on his robes and prepared to head down to the Great Hall, Remus realized he was happy for the first time in a long time. The only thing that would have outshone this happiness would have been the cure for lycanthropy. This was a very close second, as it was: he and Severus had finally gotten together as a couple about a week after their first kiss in the infirmary.

They had progressed quickly after that, from coworkers to friends to lovers. As it was, their shared kiss in the infirmary was indeed not their last: he was pleasantly surprised when Severus had invited him over a week after their first kiss to discuss his Dark Mark. He had agreed to meet for a glass of wine in between classes, to talk. Remus still blushed hotly at the memory of their first time together in Severus’ room.

They had sat across from each other in the worn, black, high winged-back chairs that were placed in front of the fireplace. They had sipped their wine, Remus just savoring the fact that he was here with Severus, glad to not feel as lonely as he once had. He had been studying Severus out of the corner of his eye without trying to be too obvious about it. When he had pulled his eyes away from studying the man’s body long enough to note that silence had fallen, he had noticed a worrisome crease in Severus’ brow, his hand having fallen to his Marked arm. Concerned, Remus had inquired if it had still hurt; Severus absentmindedly answered, saying it felt better, but not as good as it had in the infirmary that day.

Remus had looked at him, secretly excited and happy, but nervous, too. Had Severus just admitted that he had enjoyed their kiss as well? Remus had watched as Severus’ hand had tightened on his Mark, his dark eyes narrowing in challenge, daring Remus to torment him. Before he had known what he was doing, Remus had reached out, touching Severus’ arm.

Snape had looked at him then, quiet settling in the room except for the occasional crackle from the fire, and had leaned slowly, tentatively, towards Remus, stopping and staring at him. Remus had then taken a breath and leaned in also, hoping, praying that he had been correct in the signals he’d been getting when Severus suddenly pressed the last of the distance forward, initiating their second kiss.

Remus had been quite surprised to find that he had stood up somehow, not recalling how he had gotten in that position, with Severus still kissing him unrelentingly, making him melt at the passion he felt in their kiss. Severus had pushed him roughly backwards until his back had hit the wall, grabbing at his clothing, pulling and almost tearing them to pieces in his haste to get him undressed. Suddenly he had found himself completely naked, leaning against the wall (or being held up by it since his legs were turning to mush), Severus still kissing him, mussing up his hair, pawing at him, making him feel alive. He’d only ever been with Sirius before this, but they had never done anything more than kiss and hold one another before Sirius had died.

He hadn’t been a virgin, but he had never had sex with another man before, either. Severus had finally pulled away from the kiss, only to maneuver him towards the bed, throwing him onto it. Remus had bounced a few times, dazed with lust, lost in being wanted so badly, actually _feeling_ wanted. He had had the presence of mind to quickly grab his wand from the floor as Severus tore his own clothing off and cast the Contraceptive Charm on himself, knowing Severus wouldn’t stop once he had gotten started. By then, Severus had finished undressing himself and was stalking towards him, making him sweat at the expression of pure lust and desire on his face. He had gotten onto the bed, making Remus scoot back as Severus _loomed_ over him. Before he knew it, Remus had found himself on his back, legs pressed to his chest, holding on for dear life as Severus pounded him into the mattress into the early hours of the next morning.

No one had questioned why he had decided to stand when he taught his classes the next day, thank Merlin. He’d had no idea Severus could be so passionate in his lovemaking, not to mention so bloody _thick_.

Remus shook his head at himself as he walked down to the Great Hall; he usually sat near Severus during meals at the teachers’ table. Most of the staff knew--though they let the students stew in their own assumptions--that they were together now, since they sometimes walked around the Black Lake, or near the Forbidden Forest, just enjoying each other’s company, content.

\---

Ron was sitting on the sofa in the Gryffindor common room, nervous, pensive, hands shaking slightly as he waited for Hermione to finish dressing so they could walk to the Great Hall together. Their trunks were packed and waiting downstairs in the entrance hall for after the end-of-term feast. Then they would be on the train, heading back home.

Ron was startled from his thoughts as Hermione came down the stairs; he frowned slightly when he saw tears shining in her eyes. “Hermione, you all right?” he asked, concerned, getting up from the sofa and moving towards her.

“Oh, I’m fine, Ron,” she replied, sniffling a bit and waving his worries off dismissively. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, and laughed at how silly she was being. “Just…it’s the end of school, and we won’t know how we did on our NEWTs until August.” She knew he was fighting the urge to roll his eyes good-naturedly, instead pursing his lips and nodding once. “Plus, Harry won’t be on the train with us for our last ride home.” She gave him a sad little smile and rubbed at her reddened nose.

Ron sighed, relieved she was in no immediate danger, and hugged her tightly, kissing the top of her head. “Harry’s not leaving us, Hermione; he’s just moving in with Professor Lupin. He even told us we’re welcome to visit whenever we want.”

“I know. It’s just odd,” she said, sighing softly. Clearing her throat, she stood a little taller with determination in her eyes, trying to smile. “Well,” she began almost breathlessly, “let’s go down to the Great Hall; the feast will be starting soon.”

They held hands as they walked past the Fat Lady and down the shifting staircases. Ron and Hermione walked slowly, having a little time before needing to be at the Hall. They just wanted to enjoy their time together, savor it, and reminisce in the place that had held so many adventures and memories, and most importantly, helped bring them together.

\---

They walked down the hallway, Harry carrying Jamie on his shoulder as Draco had handed him over as soon as they had entered the school. They had to stop occasionally as students would coo at their son, making a few first year witches squeal in girlish delight at the drool-filled smile Jamie gave them, flirting with them (Draco had never been prouder to call him ‘son’) before shoving his spit-slicked fist back into his mouth.

Draco looked down the hall, slightly frowning as he spotted Weasley and Granger coming towards them. “Harry,” he said, nudging the dark-haired boy’s shoulder to get his attention. At Harry’s questioning ‘hmm?’ Draco continued, resentment in his tone, “Here come your friends.”

Harry caught sight of his two friends, smiling widely as he met them halfway. Hermione gave Harry a bright smile and light hug so as not to squish Jamie. “Let me see my godson,” Hermione greeted with a grin, plucking Jamie carefully from Harry’s arms and kissing his cheek as she cooed at him. Jamie babbled happily at her, taking a moment to wave his fists before he continued sucking on his fist, the other hand going to grab the collar of her shirt.

Ron patted Harry’s shoulder in brotherly affection, sharing an amused look with Draco at Hermione’s overexcited squeals whenever she saw Jamie. He was anxious, freckles standing out more than usual, sweaty hands balled into fists deep in his pockets, smiling occasionally at seeing his girlfriend with their friend’s son.

After a few minutes, most of the students made their way through the milling crowd and into the Great Hall. “All right, Hermione, hand Jamie over to Harry so we can go eat. I’m starving,” Ron said playfully, smiling at the look she gave him. He wasn’t sure if he’d actually be able to eat, as nervous as he was, but he didn’t want to give anything away.

“Honestly, Ron,” she rolled her eyes and began as she gave up her prized godson to Harry, who cradled Jamie in his arms. “You’re always hungry. I have no idea where you keep all the food you eat, since there’s not an ounce of fat on you.” Ron gave her a knowing smile, making her blush hotly and hurry towards the Hall, Ron following after her, still smiling, though his smile faded a little at what he was planning. How would she react? What would she say? His stomach knotted up even worse; he was sure he wouldn’t be able to keep a thing down tonight.

Harry laughed out loud and followed after his friends, talking softly to his son as he went while Jamie babbled incoherently back. Draco followed after, staring fondly at Jamie as he smiled brightly at his daddy from Harry’s shoulder, wide, bright eyes following him as he walked in the opposite direction to eat his last meal in the Great Hall with his fellow Slytherins.

\---

“…And so ends another year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore announced cheerfully from the podium he stood behind, waiting for the claps and cheers to die down. “Seventh years, may your lives be rich and full, and may you find that which you seek in life. Protect yourselves, stay vigilant, and band together against intolerance as you sit with your fellow men and women. Now, eat up and I wish you all luck in your future!” His twinkling eyes were settled directly towards Harry as he ended the speech. Harry blinked at this, looking down suddenly as Jamie leaned forward, reaching for a spoon from the table.

The food appeared then on the tables and everyone happily tucked in. Harry had Jamie on his lap as he ate, occasionally feeding his son little bits of the softer foods from his fingers or a spoon. Though, Jamie got more food on his sleeper than in his mouth, but he enjoyed himself nonetheless, babbling and giggling and flapping his fists every once in a while.

Ron, who was seated next to Harry, would reach out and tickle Jamie’s bare feet with a dreamy smile, making the little boy squeal and kick to the delight of the other Gryffindors. The redhead snatched a biscuit from one of the trays and handed it to Jamie, waiting to see what the six-month-old would do. The little boy stared curiously at it a moment, fascinated, before grabbing the biscuit from Ron’s hand and trying to shove the whole thing into his small mouth. It was bigger, of course, so Jamie held it as he bit into it, more drooling all over it, crumbs scattering everywhere.

Meanwhile Draco was seated at the Slytherin table, across from Blaise. He looked up occasionally from eating at the happy squeals his son was making, carrying over from the Gryffindor table; a few of his fellow Slytherins muttered insults at this, but they were too low for Draco to hear. He watched in amusement as Ron handed his son the biscuit and shook his head; Harry was going to be covered in crumbs and drool by the end of dinner.

“Have you finished moving your things into the cottage?” Blaise asked between bites of food, startling Draco into turning his attention away from his family and onto his friend.

Draco sighed tiredly, briefly dropping his fork on the remains of his roast. “Yes. After the feast we’ll be off,” Draco replied quietly, voice masking his nostalgia. “How are things with Longbottom? I heard he’s going to be the new Herbology professor.”

Blaise nodded and sighed a little. “He’s doing better since he first found out Sprout was killed,” he admitted, pushing his finished meal away. “It took him a few months to get over her death, her being his favorite professor and all. But he’s happy Dumbledore came to him and asked him, especially seeing as how Herbology was the only subject he didn’t need my help in.”

“It’s strange,” Draco said after nodding and taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “I never thought Longbottom would be the one Dumbledore chose to replace her. He really has come a long way, hasn’t he?”

Blaise smiled proudly at this, nodding. “Yes, he has. I’ll be living with him here at the castle after he comes back from seeing his grandmother over the summer.”

“Oh?” Draco began, a bit surprised to hear this. “I didn’t realize you two were so serious.”

Blaise nodded. “I’m thinking of asking him to marry me, but I don’t know yet. With the Dark Lord still out there, I don’t think it’s a good idea to do so,” he replied quietly, not wanting others at their table to overhear. Never knew who was loyal nowadays, the blond was unnerved to realize.

“I see,” Draco whispered back just as quietly. He had no clue at all Blaise was so into Longbottom. It was…well, _Longbottom_ for Merlin’s sake.

The remainder of their time was spent in silence, finishing their food and lost in their own thoughts of what the future would bring. Draco looked over at the Gryffindor table once more when he heard Harry tell Weasley to stop tickling their son’s toes, so he could finish his own meal in peace. Of course the redhead didn’t listen, still laughing along with Jamie as he squealed even louder than before.

\---

After the feast was over and everyone had had their fill of food and drink, students began getting up from the tables and making their way leisurely out of the Great Hall, enjoying their last night in the school.

Jamie, as expected, had literally been covered head to toe with biscuit crumbs, kicking his little feet in delight. Hermione tsked and waved her wand at Harry and Jamie, cleaning them up. Harry smiled his thanks to her and walked towards the doors where Draco was lingering, waiting for them.

Jamie cried out gleefully at seeing his other daddy, causing Draco to smile and reach for him. “Had fun, did you?” he asked his son, who kicked his legs and immediately reached for Draco’s hair. “Uh-uh, no pulling,” he scolded him, gently removing his little hand from his hair.

The students were all making their way out of the Great Hall, some stopping to hug their friends who wouldn’t be back next year, while others were in little groups, promising each other they’d owl.

Seamus had Dennis wedged in a corner, snogging him in plain sight of everyone. It was the last day, so most teachers decided to ignore them, only breaking in if Seamus got too…intimate with his hands.

Hermione, about to head off with the others, gave Harry a tight hug, kissing his cheek and turning to Draco to kiss Jamie’s cheek, since the blond held him.

In the meantime, Ron looked around at the other students milling about, heading towards the exit. He was scared, praying he could do this without looking like a complete fool. _What am I going to say? What does she want to hear? Well, she’d tell me to speak from my heart, of course. But I’ve never been good at speeches. God, what if I talk too long and sound like an idiot and put her off? Merlin, what if she says no?_ Ron shook away those thoughts, plucked up his courage, took a deep breath, held his head high, and decided to go into it, wand blazing, as he lowered himself to the ground.

The entrance hall went deathly silent suddenly, excited murmurs picking up a little at a time, until it grew louder. Harry and Draco, suddenly bemused by the abrupt change in atmosphere, turned, looking around to see why people had stopped dead and stared, looking down somewhere towards the floor. Harry’s eyes bulged at seeing Ron bent down on one knee, facing Hermione’s back.

Hermione, seeing Harry’s stunned look, turned around in bewilderment and froze, staring down at Ron, a blank look crossing her features before her mouth opened in surprise, wondering what he was doing, but somewhere in the back of her mind she already knew. But for the first time in her life, she felt her brain turn to mush.

A crowd of teachers and students began to form around Ron and Hermione excitedly, Harry and Draco having a front row seat, so to speak. Ron (who was red-faced and terrified, but determined) reached out for Hermione’s hand, absently noting it was shaking slightly as well.

Hermione sucked in her lips, biting them, trying hard not to cry--yet feeling the emotion welling in her, ready to burst, to explode--but only a few tears escaped down her cheek. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ron clearly and firmly asked, staring deep into her eyes, even her soul, “Hermione… will you marry me?”

Hermione couldn’t get her voice to work, emotion having frozen her vocal cords. Instead, with a beaming, tearful smile, she nodded her head vigorously in acceptance.

Ron laughed in relief, his eyes stinging with happiness, standing up from his kneel and taking Hermione into his arms, hugging her tightly. The crowd around them began to clap, cheering and whooping and happy (even Seamus and Dennis had paused from their snogging long enough to applaud with excitement).

With a wry grin, Draco muttered quietly to Harry, “Though I don’t like him much,” he wrinkled his nose a bit as he admitted this, causing Harry to roll his eyes, “I’ll say this: Weasley _does_ have style.”

Harry smiled, squeezing Jamie affectionately as he babbled happily, arms reaching out to the now ecstatic, smooching couple, and threw an amused glance at Draco's smirk. “That he does.”

 

The End


End file.
